


I can't seem to see through solid marble eyes

by AbhorrentSelkie



Series: The Kids Aren't Alright [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Dorks in Love, Fade to Black, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, background Claude/Hilda, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbhorrentSelkie/pseuds/AbhorrentSelkie
Summary: When Felix kissed Annette, she wasn’t the redhead he saw behind his eyelids. He’d thought – hoped – that he could brute-force his way to feeling more for her than friendship, thought he could out-stubborn his own emotions. The longer they were together, the more obvious it became that his feelings toward Annette weren’t going to become more than platonic, despite his best efforts.Honestly, he blamed Sylvain._____Months after the 'Miklan Incident,' Felix decides it's time to finally get what they both want. If only they can get past Sylvain's compulsive self-sabotaging nature.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: The Kids Aren't Alright [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719820
Comments: 15
Kudos: 112





	1. If I could trade mistakes for sheep, count me away before you sleep

**Author's Note:**

> So, maybe it ruins the ending of 'I can't seem to breathe with a rusted metal heart,' but I couldn't leave it entirely with such a sad ending. So, have some dorks in love struggling to figure things out.

When Felix kissed Annette, she wasn’t the redhead he saw behind his eyelids. He tried. Really. He liked Annette alright. Sometimes, he thought he could listen to her sing for hours. She had cute little songs for just about every occasion, from waiting in line at the McDonald’s drive-thru, to organizing her backpack for the billionth time, to making popcorn on their movie date nights.

He’d thought – hoped – that he could brute-force his way to feeling more for her than friendship, thought he could out-stubborn his own emotions. He didn’t miss her when she was gone. He didn’t get excited to see her when they planned to go out. The longer they were together, the more obvious it became that his feelings toward Annette weren’t going to become more than platonic, despite his best efforts.

Honestly, he blamed Sylvain.

His conversation with Miklan two months after the disastrous 'Incident' still rang in Felix’s ears, even though that itself had been almost a month before. “You know Sylvain’s, like, _super_ into you, right?” _I know._

Felix had noticed the way Sylvain’s eyes lingered on him some time in their sophomore year. And if Felix was being honest, he found his eyes lingering as well. But, before Felix could really work out his feelings, let alone pluck up the courage to _act_ on them… the accident happened, and everything turned on its head.

And Sylvain was next to him the whole way as he tried to readjust to a life where everything was different, even when Felix tried his damnedest to shove everyone away. But, after that, it never felt like the right time to broach the subject and risk losing his friend.

Plus, there was the little matter of Sylvain fucking anything in a skirt. That seemed a particularly convincing reason to never act on his stupid school-boy crush. But, something about Miklan’s words burrowed in his brain and wouldn’t let up.

Perhaps going for a subtle approach had been a mistake. He’d only mentioned asking Annette out in the hopes that Sylvain would finally say something – mostly so Felix didn’t have to – but he should have taken into account the dumbass’ habit of not letting himself be happy for more than five consecutive seconds before having a meltdown and doing something to ruin it.

After that, he’d felt pressured to go through with asking Annette out, if only so he didn't have to keep skirting around his confusing feelings toward Sylvain. _I tried_ , he attempted to convince himself. _I gave Sylvain the chance to do something. He didn't. Now I can move on_. He didn't convince himself.

“I don’t know who’s on the other side of that wall,” Ingrid muttered half way through their shared third period study hall, snapping Felix out of his thoughts, “but I think they’re dead by now.” He glanced over, confused. “You’re glaring hard enough to kill a man. You know, the joke kinda loses its effect if you make me explain it because you’re not paying attention.”

“Sorry,” he sighed, not sorry.

“Something on your mind?”

“No.” Yes. Did he want to talk to Ingrid about it? Well, certainly not all of it… “You’re a girl.”

She gave him a withering look. “Really? What tipped you off? Was it the boobs?”

“Tch,” he scoffed, not dignifying that with a response. “How do I break up with Annette?”

“Why do you want to break up with Annette?” she mused, chewing thoughtfully on a wad of pink bubblegum. “You two are cute together.”

“I just don’t…” He huffed, at a loss for words. Maybe asking Ingrid about it had been a mistake; it meant he had to talk about feelings and all that inconvenient bullshit. “I like Annette. But, like a friend.”

“Why’d you ask her out in the first place?”

“I don’t know. She’s cool. I thought I might have liked her, but I kinda started to realize I don’t.”

Ingrid was silent for a moment, studying him, chewing slowly. “So tell _her_ that,” she decided, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “You’ve only been dating for like, three weeks. It’ll be fine.”

“What if she cries?”

“Then she cries. She’s a big girl, she’ll get over it.” That sounded slightly harsh, even to Felix, but Ingrid _was_ girl, so he supposed she probably knew what she was talking about. He realized that she was still staring at him, her green eyes always so sharp. “That’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismissed, a bit too quickly.

“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. “But if you ever decide to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

“Whatever.”

~OoO~

Annette didn’t cry. So, that was a plus. She understood exactly what he meant, stating that while she had ‘fun’ with Felix, she’d definitely noticed a lack of ‘sparks.’ And, as a bonus, she promised she would still share her cute songs with him whenever they hung out.

So, that was one problem out of the way, he supposed. Yet, the bigger problem still stood before him.

An utterly clueless, ridiculously attractive, and infuriatingly self-sabotaging problem named Sylvain Jose Gautier.

It was one thing for Felix to admit to _himself_ that he was… interested in Sylvain. It was another entirely to make the first move, since Sylvain was clearly not going to. In a perfect world, Felix successfully asking out Annette would have made him realize that making said first move wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be, that he was just getting in his own head. But it obviously _wasn’t_ a perfect world, and he found himself fighting a war with himself over the next week.

And, _of course_ Sylvain noticed. He had always been oddly fine-tuned to his friends’ feelings, despite the bullshit aloof attitude he liked to project. They ran laps around the gym side-by-side in their shared sixth period gym class. “Hey, man,” Sylvain said, breath ever-so-slightly hitched from their jog, “you’ve been awfully grouchy the past couple days. Well, grouchier than usual.”

“Bite me.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” he laughed. “On a good day, you’d tell me to go fuck myself.” Felix rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t exactly argue with his logic. “Something up?”

Felix set his jaw, not even sure where to _begin_ answering that. He settled on the safe answer. “Annette and I broke up,” he huffed, glancing over to gauge the taller boy’s reaction.

Something sparked in Sylvain’s eyes that Felix couldn’t quite place, just for a second. “Shit man, that sucks.”

“It’s fine.”

“Hey, why don’t you come over tonight. We’ll do a shitty movie night, like we used to.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he snapped, just a second before realizing that, maybe, if he could work up the balls to do it, it was as good a chance as he was going to get. “Fine. I’ll be there after practice.”

Sylvain shot him a curious look at his very rapid change of heart, but didn’t press it. They finished their laps in silence.

Felix tried not to dwell on his rash decision as the rest of the day slowly trickled by. He tried not to think about it at practice, ruthlessly taking his emotions out on his unlucky sparring partner. He tried not to let it consume him as he drove the familiar streets to the Gautier home. He tried not to talk himself into turning around and going home as he pulled up the driveway. He tried not to wonder how much of a mistake he was making as Sylvain led him up to his bedroom with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in hand.

~OoO~

Felix sat stiff as a board next to Sylvain as the redhead flipped through Netflix, seeking out the shittiest movie he could find. It was something of a tradition of theirs – or, rather, it had been, in the past. Before the accident. While he scrolled, Sylvain couldn’t help but spare glances out of the corner of his eye at his friend. Felix’s jaw was set in a hard line, hands clamped down tightly on his knees.

Something was clearly on Felix’s mind, but the boy was like a skittish stray cat; one careless step, and he hissed and clawed and bolted to the nearest hiding spot. Of course, Sylvain had long since mastered the art of calming a feral Felix, but it was a slow process that involved a lot of silence and letting Felix let his guard down. Experience said the best option would be to let Felix do his own thing for a while before broaching the subject.

“Hey, wanna hit the lights?” Sylvain asked, selecting some action movie with the most cliché name he’d never heard of. Felix practically jumped to do so. The room fell into darkness. Even though it wasn’t all that late, it was already mostly dark out, as winter tended to do.

Felix moved as if he was walking through quicksand on his way back, and Sylvain tried not to stare, wondering what was possibly going on in that grumpy head of his. He was unprepared, however, when Felix sat back down next to him. Like, _right_ next to him, so close their shoulders bumped and Sylvain could feel the warmth radiating off of him, could smell his light cologne.

Sylvain’s pulse jumped, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if Felix could hear the pounding of his heart, _as fucking close as he was sitting_ , and he tried to breathe evenly. _Let Felix do his own thing for a while_ , he reminded himself.

Felix, meanwhile, was no less tense than he’d been before getting up. He might as well have had a rod up his ass for as straight as he was sitting. He was resolutely staring ahead at the TV, jaw clenched and hands clasped tightly on his thighs. All in all, it was not normal stray cat Felix behavior, and Sylvain wasn’t really sure what to make of it.

All he knew was that he wanted _so_ badly to reach over, put his arm over Felix’s shoulder and pull him tight.

“Popcorn?” he offered instead, hoping the small hitch in his voice wasn’t noticeable.

This seemed to soothe whatever weird mood Felix was in some, as if Sylvain acting like nothing was out of the ordinary was a weight off his shoulders, and Felix relaxed a little into the couch. They started munching idly on the popcorn, and Sylvain started the movie.

It was truly terrible. Half way through, Sylvain noticed that he’d not really been paying attention and had no idea what was going on.

He also noticed that Felix was somehow _closer_ than he’d been before. At some point – Sylvain really hadn’t noticed – one of them must have shifted or readjusted as their legs were pressed flush against each other, though Felix maintained his death grip on his own thighs.

Sylvain swallowed hard, cramming his mouth with as much popcorn as he could fit to stop himself from groaning from the litany of thoughts that started dive bombing his crush-addled brain. It would have been so easy to pull Felix against his chest, run his hands through his dark, silky hair. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to reach over and take Felix’s hand, wind their fingers together and rub small circles on the back of his hand with his thumb.

The movie ended, and Sylvain honestly had no clue what it was about. Neither of them moved, neither said a word. Autoplay put on a second movie, and they continued whatever weird thing was happening. The only light now came from the TV, and Sylvain found himself enraptured in the way it played on Felix’s sharp cheekbones, cast long shadows across his cheeks. Every so often, he caught Felix’s eyes darting over, just for a second. At that point, Sylvain was pretty sure he was blatantly staring, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

They suffered through half of the second movie before Sylvain couldn’t take any more. He sagged back, turning to face Felix with a soft groan. He could hear Felix’s breath catch in his chest. Sylvain’s voice was barely a whisper over the hum of the on-screen music when he said, “Felix, what are you doing?”

Felix’s voice was so soft when he replied, he almost thought he imagined it. “I don’t know.” It was the movement of Felix’s lips that convinced Sylvain it hadn’t been in his head. Slowly, forcing his muscles to relax, Felix turned his head toward Sylvain. In the darkness, his amber eyes looked black. They were wide, searching as Felix’s hands clenched and unclenched around the taut fabric of his jeans.

Sylvain had to know. It was stupid, and his brain was screaming _“Abort! Abort!”_ But he _had to know_. With a trembling hand, he reached up to cup Felix’s chin. Felix didn’t pull away, like he’d expected… feared… hoped.

“Tell me to stop,” Sylvain muttered, desperate, already leaning forward. “Please, tell me to stop.”

Felix did not tell him to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Trade Mistakes by Panic! at the Disco


	2. Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it

Felix did not tell him to stop. He felt his breathe froze in his lungs as Sylvain lips pressed softly to his. After the initial shock of _goddess, this is actually happening_ , he relaxed into the kiss, tilting his head to the side and letting his eyes fall shut. The kiss was slow and surprisingly chaste, considering what Felix knew about Sylvain.

It ended as quickly as it started, Sylvain pulling back with wide eyes, chest heaving slightly. Felix found himself grateful for the darkness; he was sure his face was flushed like some stupid kid having their first kiss. Sylvain’s eyes, practically black in the soft glow of the crappy movie they weren’t watching, held Felix’s intently for a long moment. “Gods,” he breathed, finally lowering his hand from Felix’s chin, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time,” Felix admitted, internally cringing at how his voice was just a hair too high-pitched.

“You have?”

“Obviously.”

“Well, it wasn’t obvious to me.” Sylvain laughed, light and kind of nervous. “I’ve got to say, your strategy for getting my attention was certainly something.”

Felix scowled, glancing away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sylvain laughed again, lightly turning Felix’s face back toward his with a gentle hand. “Come on, Fe, you were practically sitting on my lap.”

“Shut up.”

“Always so prickly,” he teased. Before Felix could shoot something back, Sylvain’s lips were back on his. This kiss was deeper, hungrier than the first one. One of Sylvain’s hands worked through Felix’s hair, ruining the bun he had it pulled up in. His other hand came to rest on Felix’s hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb through Felix’s shirt.

Sylvain gently urged Felix’s lips apart, dipping his tongue inside, and Felix’s heart lurched in his chest. This was uncharted territory. It wasn’t his first kiss, not by a long shot, but his mind very suddenly went blank. What did he do with his hands? He settled gripping Sylvain’s shoulders with one, resting the other on his knee. And, Sothis, how was Sylvain _so good_ at this?

He tried not the think about the very obvious answer to that question.

Felix had no idea how much time passed, how long they spent locked together in the dark, hands awkwardly fumbling over each other. His phone chimed, shrill and demanding in his pocket, startling them apart. “Sorry,” he muttered, fumbling to pull it out.

> **Dad:** When will you be home?

He sighed, silently cursing his father's annoying tendency to be overbearing at the worst possible times. He worried at times when Felix didn’t check in, with very little rhyme or reason as to when it would happen. Some days, he wouldn't be bothered at all. Others, Felix couldn't be gone an hour before the man was ready to send in the cavalry.

> **Me:** 20 mins

He sighed and pushed away from Sylvain, reaching back to fix his hair. “I need to go.”

“Right.” Silence fell between them. He could practically _feel_ unspoken words hanging in the air between them, but neither of them seemed to know how to spit them out. Felix stood, then paused, glancing back down at Sylvain who was rubbing the back of his neck roughly. “I’ll… um. Text you. Tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He hesitated, stomach twisting. What do you even say after spending half an hour making out with your best friend when you’ve been acting like you didn't like each other for years? “Later," was all he could come up with.

Felix showed himself out.

His father didn’t acknowledge his arrival when Felix stalked through the door and shut himself in his room. Felix was tired, all his nerves and adrenaline worked out of his system on the drive home, but he was too keyed up to sleep. He laid on the bed, staring up that the ceiling.

His mind replayed the evening on loop. He could still feel the soft, phantom press of Sylvain’s lips on his, taste the ghost of salt and butter that lingered on their tongues from the popcorn. It hadn’t gone exactly how he’d planned it, but he supposed the end result was about as good as he could have hoped for.

The plan had been to sit close and work his way up to leaning into him, or reaching over to grab his hand. At some point as he was sinking down to sit next to Sylvain, he chickened out, but he was it was too late to entirely back out – he’d already take his seat too close to be casual, and it would have been even more weird to sit, just to move away five seconds later. So, he gritted his teeth and held his ground.

To his credit, while Sylvain had clearly been confused, he played it off well. He’d acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, offered him popcorn, and started the movie. Every time Felix felt like he was about to say something or reach out to touch Sylvain, he chickened out all over again and stuffed his face with popcorn.

It didn’t get any easier after Sylvain shifted _even closer_ to him, and Felix was pretty sure he’d done it unconsciously. In the end, while Felix had convinced himself he was going to make the first move – which, sure, he kind of did – it had been Sylvain that had to take the initiative. He felt his cheeks flush all over again remembering the look in Sylvain’s eyes as he leaned in, at Sylvain’s light teasing after the kiss as his words rang in his ears.

Goddess, he felt pathetic.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep with the feeling of Sylvain’s fingers running through his hair burning against his scalp.

~OoO~

Felix tried not the check his phone like a love-struck middle schooler waiting for their crush to text back. He tried not to look at his phone. He tried not to _think about_ his phone. He tried not to think about Sylvain at all.

He failed miserably.

His mind was consumed with the same cyclical thoughts that he’d fallen asleep to the night before, and it was driving him crazy. Sylvain said he was going to text, but the minutes ticked on and on into hours, and his phone remained maddeningly silent.

Briefly, he considered texting Sylvain first. He even had a message typed. But, as with everything of late, he chickened out at the last second and texted Ingrid instead.

> **Me:** Lunch
> 
> **Ingrid** _ **:**_ I don’t know…
> 
> **Me:** I’ll pay
> 
> **Ingrid:** Dagda Steakhouse?
> 
> **Me:** No
> 
> **Me:** Almyran buffet or Duscur grill
> 
> **Me:** Take it or leave it
> 
> **Ingrid:** Fiiiiiine. Almyran.
> 
> **Me:** Be there in 15
> 
> _Seen at 11:25_

It didn’t come as a surprise that Ingrid was almost fifteen minutes late. Felix sat in his car, waiting, scrolling idly through Facebook and totally not hoping for a text that ultimately didn’t come. When she finally arrived, they headed inside together. The waitress took their drink orders and Ingrid was set loose on the poor buffet. Felix sat at the table alone with his human portion of food for a while before she returned with two plates piled high, probably enough to feed a horse, grinning broadly.

“So,” she prompted between large bites, “what’s up?”

He scoffed, scowling down at his plate. “What makes you think anything’s up?”

“You asked me to lunch _and_ offered to pay.” She washed down her mouthful with a gulp of soda. “You only do that when you want to talk.” Goddess, why did his friends have to know him so well? He put off answering by stuffing his mouth, not meeting her intense gave. “Spill,” she demanded the second he swallowed.

He sighed, pushing his food around on his plate with his fork for a moment. She waited patiently, not even using the silence to shove more food down her throat. Finally, with a deep breath, he spoke, so soft he thought she might not actually be able to hear. “Sylvain and I kissed.”

Her fork clattered onto the table, and the most inhuman squeal he’d ever heard emitted from her throat, drawing the eyes of people trying to enjoy their meals at nearby tables. She didn’t seem to care, nearly knocking over his glass of water in her haste to squeeze his hand. “Felix~”

“What is your problem?” he hissed, ripping his hand out of her grasp and finally looking up to meet her eyes. They were practically sparkling, and she bounced lightly in her seat.

“It’s _about time_!” He stared, dumbfounded. Out of all the reactions he’d mentally prepared himself for on the drive to the restaurant, this level of excitement hadn’t been one of them. “Ha! Dimitri owes me fifty bucks!”

“Keep your voice down,” he huffed. “People are staring.” She didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish, just smug and elated. “And what do you mean Dimitri owes you fifty bucks?”

“We’ve had a bet on you two since eighth grade,” she dismissed, as if it was just a trivial thing. “Well, the original bet was for ten, but we bump it up every year. That’s not important right now, though.” He was about to protest, but she continued over him. “Now, I want details, like five minutes ago. Dish.”

“This is stupid.”

“Felix, you invited me here to talk about this,” she reminded him, managing to school her face into something resembling serious. “So, you have to tell me. Those. Are. The. Rules.” Each word was punctuated with a sharp clap.

He glared. “Really?” he asked dryly.

“I don’t make the rules, Felix,” she said with a shrug. “Now, dish, bitch.”

“Ingrid-”

“ _Diiiish._ ”

With a sigh, he relented, recounting the previous night in as little detail as possible. Ingrid listened, enraptured, absently shoveling copious amounts of food into the black hole she called a mouth. When he finished, she gave him a small, piteous smile. “You two are so utterly hopeless, it’s kind of pathetic.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“It seems like it went well, though,” she added. “So, why do you look like you’re going to murder something?”

He glanced down at his phone, still obnoxiously silent. “He hasn’t texted me yet.” He hoped that didn’t sound as desperate as he thought it did. “I fucked it up. Last night was just… I dunno. He got caught in the moment. And now everything’s weird and-”

“Felix, stop.” She took his hand again, much less excited this time, squeezing gently. “Breathe. Look, you’re feeling anxious about it, so he probably is too. If you’re that worried, why don’t _you_ text _him_?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “I thought about it earlier, but… Ugh.”

“Well, what were you going to say?” He showed her the unsent message, still typed out. She gave him a dry look, unimpressed. “‘Hey.’ That’s it?”

“What the fuck else would I say?”

“Boys,” she scoffed. “Maybe say something about how you feel about last night?”

“That’s dumb. Why would I lead with that?” She started rambling off an explanation, but he stopped listening, staring at the unsent message on his phone.

 _What the fuck_.

He pressed send.

> **Me:** Hey

“You did _not_ just send ‘hey’ did you?”

“Fuck off.” His phone pinged a moment later with a text, and his heart jumped in his chest. He stared at his phone as if it might bite him if he touched it.

“Well,” she prompted, arching an eyebrow. “Read it.”

> **Sylvain:** Hey.
> 
> **Sylvain:** Sorry I didn’t text you sooner.
> 
> **Sylvain:** I wasn’t sure what to say.

Felix’s heart sank. He’d been right; he fucked up and ruined everything. With heavy fingers, he typed, hoping his disappointment wouldn’t be evident in the message.

> **Me:** Sorry I overstepped last night
> 
> **Me:** It won’t happen again

Ingrid, reading over the top of his phone, started chocking on her comically large bite of food. “What are you doing?” she managed to sputter out. “You’re an idiot!”

> **Sylvain:** What?
> 
> **Sylvain:** No!
> 
> **Sylvain:** Shit, man, that came out wrong.
> 
> **Sylvain:** I liked last night. I want it to happen again.
> 
> **Sylvain:** I mean, only if you do, of course.

Felix could barely process what he was reading, between the rush of blood in his ears and Ingrid’s intense stare from across the answer. “Well,” she demanded, kicking him in the shin to snap him out of it. “Answer him, dumbass!”

> **Me:** Yeah
> 
> **Me:** I do
> 
> **Sylvain:** Can I come over later, then?
> 
> **Me:** Sure

Ingrid let out a sigh of relief. “You two are gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: my strange addiction by Billie Eilish


	3. He's an over-thinker, he's a slow kisser, a confessed sinner

Sylvain got to Felix’s house a little while before dinner time, while Felix’s mother was getting ready to leave for her evening shift at the hospital where she worked as an ICU nurse. Really, she didn’t need to work, if she didn’t want to; Felix’s father made more than enough money running his company that did private security for the Blaiddyd Corporation that the family would have been plenty comfortable on just his salary. But Amber Fraldarius loved her work, loved helping people, even when it was grueling and bloody and stressful.

Felix could hear her fussing over Sylvain, even from his room upstairs. She’d always been like that, playing mother hen over his friends, ever since they were little. She was the mother who would bake cookies if she was home when they had game night and load their plate with seconds and thirds if they stayed for dinner. She ruffled hair and patted cheeks and squished them in tight hugs. Sylvain lapped up the attention like a love-starved stray puppy.

Eventually, she released Sylvain and he made his way up. Felix could hear him hesitate outside the door for a moment, and he tried to pretend his heart wasn’t doing an accurate impression of a jackhammer, pointedly not looking up from his laptop where he lounged on the bed as the door slowly opened.

“Hey,” Sylvain said, shutting the door behind him and standing awkwardly in front of it.

“Hey.” Sylvain still didn’t move, and out of his peripheral vision, Felix saw him rubbing the back of his neck nervously. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Sylvain’s face was flushed. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Right.” Sylvain stepped further into the room. Unlike Sylvain’s bedroom, Felix didn’t have an old, second-hand sofa. Sylvain made due with the office chair that sat at the desk, wheeling it around to face Felix. “Hey.”

Felix bit his tongue before he could point out that Sylvain had already said that. It hit him like a ton of bricks that Sylvain was, quite possibly, as nervous and uncertain as Felix felt. That realization shocked him; he’d always known Sylvain to be an incorrigible and unabashed flirt. _Uncharted waters_ , he reminded himself. Sylvain was staring at him, and he finally realized he hadn’t said anything. “Hey,” he repeated lamely.

Sylvain laughed, rubbing his neck again. “Fuck, we’re pretty bad at this.”

Felix's mind blanked as he scrounged for something to say in response to that. “I told Ingrid,” he blurted, unsure why. “Sorry. I… needed someone to talk to.”

Sylvain blinked. “Oh. That’s fine.”

“She and Dimitri had a bet on how long it would take us to get together.”

“Really?” Sylvain laughed. “Since when?”

“Eighth grade.”

“Eighth grade?” Felix nodded. “Shit, I really didn’t even think about it until, like, sophomore year.”

“Same.” The tension between them melted some, falling back into a normal, comfortable banter. “She wanted to strangle me when I texted you ‘hey.’”

“Well, it was no Shakespeare,” he teased. Felix glared at him. “But, it was very you.” Silence fell back over them for a minute. “I’ll be honest. I’m pretty out of my element here, dude.” Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever not known what to say.”

Felix finally closed his laptop, shoving it off to the side impatiently, and turned to face Sylvain. He took a deep breath. There were times where you just had to rip the band-aid off and fucking _say it._ Felix just wished he was any good at doing that. “Just tell me this isn’t going to be like it is with all the girls you fuck.”

Sylvain’s eyes went wide, taken aback. “No. No, man, of course not.” He hissed out a breath, looking away, running his hand through his hair again. “The girls never meant anything to me.”

“I know that.”

“I slept around because… well, goddess, this is gonna sound pathetic. I was trying to get over my, I dunno, crush on you, or whatever it was.” Felix wasn’t sure how to respond to that. So, he didn’t. He waited for Sylvain to keep talking. “I didn’t think you were interested, and I was worried you’d be mad if I came onto you to find out.”

“Wow,” Felix muttered. “I think Ingrid might be right.” Sylvain’s brow furrowed, confused. “We’re both idiots. I never said anything for the same reason.”

Sylvain laughed, scooting out of the office chair and flopping down on the bed next to Felix. Felix didn’t complain – much – as Sylvain pulled him against his side and tipped his head back to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Well, now we can be idiots together,” he teased once he pulled away.

~OoO~

Sylvain settled into a booth at the back of the McDonald’s, munching contentedly on his fresh, hot french fries while he waited. His eyes practically glued to his phone screen, he barely noticed Miklan saunter over ten minutes later and drop his tray on the table with a loud clatter. Before Sylvain could react, Miklan yanked Sylvain’s phone from his hand, grinning like a wolf as he plopped down in the bench across from him. Sylvain glared, making a grab for his phone, but Miklan held it out of his reach.

His brow furrowed as he read. “The fuck are you reading, nerd?” he laughed, finally tossing it back. Sylvain caught it easily and tucked it back in his pocket with a huff.

“My friend Bernadetta is an aspiring writer, and she’s really good,” he explained through a mouthful of fries. “She lets me beta read her stuff.”

Miklan snorted, tearing into the first of three Big Macs in front of him. Ever since Sylvain was un-grounded and Felix passed along Miklan’s number, Sylvain made the decision that he wasn’t going to shut his brother out of his life again, even if he was an annoying asshole most of the time. They had been meeting up every week or two since then, in places their father wouldn’t be caught dead in, like a dirty McDonald’s on the bad end of town.

Miklan, in the months that had passed, had actually been doing a bit better for himself than before. He avoided jail time for his misdemeanor drug charge by pleading guilty, earning a fine and some community service instead. He’d managed to get a job, even, which had always been difficult with his record.

Miklan swallowed the massive bite he’d ripped from his burger and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking. “So, how’s my widdle baby bro?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“Dad still giving you a hard time?”

“Of course,” Sylvain snorted. Ever since the ‘incident,’ the man watched Sylvain like a hawk, scrutinized his every move. It was tiring, but the thought that he only had less than a year to put up with it gave Sylvain the motivation to push through it.

“You grow a pair and talk to Felix yet?”

It was the question Sylvain had been expecting; Miklan asked it every time they met, without fail. He would rib Sylvain endlessly when the boy admitted that he hadn’t. Sylvain smirked. “Yeah, actually.”

Miklan’s eyes went wide, and he paused ready to take another bite, mouth slightly agape as he stared at his brother. “No shit,” he muttered, impressed. “About fucking time.” And, in typical Miklan fashion, he demanded details. By the time Sylvain finished, he was practically howling with laughter. Other customers gave him the stink eye as his voice carried. “Dude, that is the most stupid shit I think I’ve ever heard. Are you fucking serious?”

“Shut up,” Sylvain hissed.

“Man, it’s a wonder you ever managed to get anyone to fuck you,” Miklan teased. “What, did you just blush and stare at them until they dropped their panties?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes, very aware of an angry mother giving them an intense death glare as she pointedly moved her child to a table on the other end of the restaurant. “Grow up.”

Miklan polished off his second burger and took a long drink of his soda. “So, you two fucked yet?”

Sylvain looked away. There were a lot of things Sylvain would talk about with Miklan with no shame; his sex life was generally not one of them. “No,” he admitted.

Miklan laughed. “You said it’s been, what, a week, almost two? That must be some kind of record for you.”

“Bite me.”

“Nah, I’ll leave that to Felix.” Sylvain could feel his face heating up, and silently cursed himself for blushing like some innocent virgin. “You’ve never fucked a guy before, have you?”

Sylvain could _feel_ the judging gazes around them, and he sank down deeper into the slightly sticky booth, wishing he could fall right through it. “Dude, we are _not_ having this conversation.”

Miklan flashed that infuriating, borderline evil grin. “What? I’m just looking out for my dear little brother,” he insisted in a phony earnest tone. “I would hate for you to decide to fuck your little boyfriend and neither of you know what you’re doing.”

“Miklan...”

“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t do my due diligence to make sure you’re prepared for such a situation?” People were still shooting them glances, though some of them had turned to looks of pity as they realized that Sylvain was just as uncomfortable with the conversation as they were.

“Please,” Sylvain begged. “Stop.”

Miklan did not stop.

Miklan was incredibly thorough.

~OoO~

With the hard part out of the way, things fell into a new normal between them. In a lot of ways, Felix decided, it wasn’t much different than the old normal, aside from a few notable exceptions. They found themselves sidetracked from their studying by slow kisses, game nights forgotten in favor of making out. A month into their… whatever they were calling it, Sylvain sheepishly told Felix about the fantasy that had been plaguing him for years, which, after some merciless teasing, Felix finally obliged.

The months passed, and kisses and grinding gave way to awkward handjobs, then eventually to clumsy blowjobs. Sylvain never pushed for anything more than Felix was comfortable with. It was strange… as far as he could recall, Sylvain had never gone more than two weeks into a ‘relationship’ without having sex ever since he lost it at sixteen. It was surprising, but appreciated.

All the while, they kept their… whatever... secret from everybody but Ingrid and Dimitri. As more and more time went on, and Sylvain didn’t seem to collapse in on himself, Felix let himself get comfortable in the new normal.

He buried deep in the back of his brain the nagging thought that it wouldn’t last.

Sylvain still flirted while they were at school. Of course he did, he was Sylvain. That was his natural state. Ingrid’s refusal to let him live down the time he’d hit on her grandmother when he was eight stood as a testament to that fact. It didn’t bother Felix. Sylvain refused dates with the same girls he’d previously chased, leaving them baffled and, in some cases, angry.

Felix didn’t think anything of it when Sylvain told him about Hilda’s upcoming eighteenth birthday party. Sylvain was always going to parties, and Felix always stayed home. Nothing about the fact that they were… what, dating? changed that.

The problem with Sylvain, however, was that he wasn’t known for his stellar decision-making process. So, perhaps Felix should have been a little wary that Sylvain was going, by himself, to a party, where he would almost assuredly get drunk, as a Sylvain was wont to do.

It was going on midnight the night of the party when Felix got a SnapChat notification. Annette, who’d also gone to the party, and who’d clearly had a bit too much to drink herself, sent him a video of her singing karaoke. Not that Felix would admit it to anyone, but he found himself smiling as he watched. Sure, things with Annette didn’t work out in a relationship setting, but hearing her singing always a good time. Doubly so when she was tipsy and making up her own lyrics when she forgot the right ones.

Until he saw it. Right at the end of the video, Sylvain stumbled into the frame. Someone grabbed his wrist, and he spun around, nearly toppling over. Dorothea pasted herself against his chest and she tilted her head forward for a kiss. Sylvain froze, staring at her wide-eyed. Just before her lips met his, the video ended, having reached its sixty second limit. Feeling numb, Felix saved the video; Annette wouldn’t mind. The nagging thoughts came back with a vengeance, and he cursed himself for getting too comfortable.

Felix turned off his phone, shut out his light, and laid awake until sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter didn't want to write up. I had to re-write the last section about four times before I was okay with it because it was way too expositon-y, and then it wasn't long enough. So I added in the entire Miklan section, which I think ended up being my favorite part. 
> 
> Chapter title: Dream of You by Camila Cabello


	4. Letting people down is my thing, baby

Sylvain managed to pull himself out of the nest of blankets and pillows he’d curled up in on the floor at a little after seven the next morning, head pounding, bodies strewn about the floor around him. He groaned, disentangling his legs from where Caspar was using them as a pillow, and pushed himself up. Hilda and Khalid seemed to be the only other people awake, sitting at the dining room table. They sat silently, scrolling through their phones while they sipped on coffee and picked at pieces of wheat toast.

Khalid grinned up at him as he stumbled over. “Oh, you’re alive,” he teased. “You were pretty fucked up last night, I thought you might have been in a coma or something.”

“Coffee,” he grumbled. Hilda pointed to the fresh pot on the kitchen counter, and Sylvain excused himself to rifle through the cupboards until he found a coffee cup, ignoring Hilda’s helpful instructions of, ‘Look left. No, the other left… no wait, you were right the first time.’ Finally, he had his coffee, and sat down at the table across from them.

He stretched his back, a series of small pops climbing his spine. “Ugh, sleeping on the floor sucks ass.”

Khalid laughed. “I’m sure it does.” Sylvain glared at him. The lucky bastard got to sleep in a bed, considering he and Hilda had practically been joined at the hip from the moment he transferred to their school. Khalid studied him for a moment. “So, what is it this time?” he prompted, green eyes sparkling, grinning that disarming grin of his.

“What’s what?”

Khalid stared at him knowingly. “I’ve been to, like, ten parties with you. You don’t normally get that trashed. Only when you’re upset about something. Usually a girl, but I haven’t seen you with any girls lately, so…”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Hilda snorted, flicking back one of her long, pink pigtails. “I told you-,” she said.

Khalid rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I already know what you think.”

“Oh, like you don’t agree with me.”

“I absolutely do, but-”

“Could you maybe _not_ , right now?” Sylvain sighed, rubbing his throbbing temples. “I am way too hungover for you two.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Khalid laughed, throwing an arm over Hilda’s shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but fell silent. Sylvain was finally allowed to finish his coffee in the quiet that followed. A few of their fellow partied-out classmates began to stir from their spots sprawled on the floor or the couch or the various armchairs that decorated the living room.

“I should probably head home,” he sighed, not relishing the drive home in the bright morning sunlight. “Where are my keys?” Hilda didn’t look up from her phone when she pointed out a cardboard box on the counter near the coffee pot. It took a moment to dig his out from the rest of them. Keys in hand, he bid Hilda and Khalid a good day, picked his way over the bodies littering the floor, and showed himself out. His car was, thankfully, not boxed in. Cursing the sun under his breath, Sylvain drove home.

His parents were both already at work, and Sylvain spared no time drawing the blinds in his room shut to plunge the room into sweet darkness, and he fell into bed for a nice nap.

He was practically dead to the world until the chime of his nearly-drained phone woke him a little after noon. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the stabbing light of his phone’s screen.

> **Felix:** Can I come over
> 
> **Sylvain:** I am sooooo hungover, Fe.
> 
> **Felix:** I figured
> 
> **Felix:** I don’t plan to stay long
> 
> **Felix:** I need to talk to you about something
> 
> **Sylvain:** That sounds ominous o.O
> 
> **Sylvain:** Should I be worried?
> 
> _Read at 12:24_

He waited for Felix to reply, telling him not to be paranoid, to call him a dumbass, _something_. But it never came. As the minutes trickled past, is stomach curled. It wasn’t like Felix to _not_ respond, or to take so long to text back. He was practically glued to his phone at all times, after all.

> **Sylvain:** Of course you can come over ^3^
> 
> **Sylvain:** Let yourself in.
> 
> **Felix:** Ok

He pulled himself out of bed and finally changed out of the clothes he’d been wearing the night before, pulling on an old pair of sweats and a faded band t-shirt. He put on a random YouTube video to pass the time, not really watching it while he waited, stomach tying itself into knots as he tried not to convince himself the worst was coming.

There were a million things Felix could want to talk to him about in person. A million things that weren’t just telling Sylvain he’s realized he doesn’t want to be with such a fuck-up, that the past several months had all been a mistake…

Yeah. Nothing to worry about. No doubt.

His heart nearly stopped when he heard the front door close, and his struggled to breathe through the vice around his chest as Felix’s steps climbed the steps, drawing closer and closer. He hoped he didn’t look desperate and pathetic when the door finally opened and Felix stepped in. “Hey,” he greeted, thankful his voice came out even.

“Hey.” Felix stood by the door, frowning. Not scowling. Not glaring. _Frowning_.

“Something wrong?” Sylvain managed to ask.

Wordlessly, Felix joined him on the couch, not slinking against Sylvain’s side as he’d come to do over the past few weeks, once he got over being super awkward about outwardly showing affection (not that he would ever admit it aloud, and would probably slug Sylvain if he mentioned it). He fumbled with his phone for a moment before handing it over. “Press play.”

Confused, Sylvain took the phone and did as he was asked. It was a video of Annette at the party the night before, drunkenly bumbling her way through ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’ It was cute, but he didn’t understand why Felix was showing it to him, much less why it seemed to be upsetting him.

Until Sylvain stumbled into the shot behind her and Dorothea practically jumped him. Somewhere in the muddled cloud of his drunken memories, Sylvain remembered it. She’d come onto him, as she tended to do when she was about four drinks in, and in the past Sylvain had been all too happy to oblige. Not last night, though. He was sure of that.

Except the video ended with her lips a mere inch from his as she sought a kiss. Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, knotted and unkempt as it was, and handed Felix’s phone back. “Fe, nothing happened,” he said earnestly. “I promise. I pushed her away right after that, I swear. Like, you can ask Annette, or Caspar… I think that’s who she ended up-”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” Felix huffed, cutting him off.

He stared at the dark-haired boy, lost. “It’s not?”

“No.”

“Then… what?”

“I shouldn’t have waited this long to bring it up,” he sighed, crossing his arms and scowling at the floor. “I guess that’s my fault.”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about your shitty habit of sabotaging yourself every chance you get.”

He floundered, not sure what to say to that. Sylvain might have preferred it if Felix has accused him of cheating. Or, hell, he might have preferred it if Felix just punched him in the gut and called it a day. “I do not sabotage myself.”

The look Felix gave him could have made Sylvain spontaneously combust. “Yeah. You do. Every time things are going good for you.” Sylvain opened his mouth to argue, but Felix cut him off. “I’m not going to play that game with you.”

“What game?”

“The game where you set yourself up to fail. It’s what you did with Mercedes, and that one girl our freshman year, and-”

“Okay, I get it,” Sylvain huffed. “I screw everything up. Happy now?”

“No.” And, boy, did he _really_ not look happy. Like, not looking happy was kind of Felix’s natural state, but there was something sad and tired in his eyes that Sylvain hadn’t seen in a long time. “Look, I know you don’t think you deserve it when something good happens-”

“Oh, you’re a shrink now?” he spat, unsure why he was being so difficult. It was like a switch was flipped in his brain, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Felix glared. “You _told_ me that, dumbass.”

Sylvain’s brow furrowed. “When?”

“Last year. After Caspar’s birthday party. You got trashed and Ashe had to call me to come pick you up at midnight because you were a mess.” Sylvain racked his brain, trying to remember any of that, but couldn’t. “The whole way home, you were blubbering on about how Mercedes was going to dump you once she realized you were fucked in the head – don’t give me that look, those were your words – and you couldn’t handle it. You let one of Edelgard’s sisters blow you in the bathroom because you knew she would find out.”

Sylvain thought hard, pushing through the pounding in his brain, willing any of that to ring a bell. He knew Mercedes broke up with him because he'd messed around with another girl, but the specifics were a blur. “Which sister?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Felix hissed. “You’re focusing on the wrong part of that story. I got you back to my place, and before you passed out, you told me that people like you shouldn’t get good things because all you do is fuck them up.”

“Dude, I don’t remember _any_ of that.”

“Clearly.”

Sylvain swallowed hard. He stared down at his lap, feeling like shit for more reasons than just the hangover. “Well, I guess it worked again,” he muttered, expecting now that Felix had said his piece, the inevitable would happen and he would be free to wallow in his misery.

“No. It didn’t.” His heart skipped painfully in his chest, and he dared a glance at Felix. His glare had softened, just a little as he met Sylvain’s eyes. Intense amber burned bright and hot, and Sylvain couldn’t tear his gaze away. “You said nothing happened. I believe you.”

“You… You do?”

He nodded. “Well, and I already talked to Annette.” Of course he did. “I’m not giving you an easy out.” Felix’s voice was sharp as a knife, and it sent a chill down Sylvain’s spine.

“So… what now?”

“If you don’t want to do this… whatever we have anymore, _that’s fine_ , but you have to tell me that.” Sylvain wanted to insist that, no, he definitely _did_ want their whatever it was, but something in Felix’s tone made him hold his tongue. “I don’t want an answer right now. Think about it for a couple days. Don’t talk to me. Don’t text me. Just _think_.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off once more when Felix leaned in, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and pulled him into a slow, deep kiss. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Sylvain realized it couldn’t have been very pleasant; he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet, and his breath probably tasted of stale, sour alcohol and burnt coffee. Still, Felix kissed him, perhaps trying to convey some meaning that he didn’t have the words to express aloud.

“Let me know what you decide,” he said softly when he finally pulled away. There was a note of finality in his voice that stopped Sylvain from saying anything as Felix stood and showed himself out.

~OoO~

Felix’s knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel as he drove home. That had been harder than he’d been expecting, though given the fact that _words_ and _feelings_ weren’t exactly his forte, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d practiced that speech about a dozen times before he’d worked up the nerve to text Sylvain, run the words he wanted to say through his brain while he laid awake all night.

Kissing him hadn’t really been in the plan. He’d intended to go in, be firm and speak his mind, and walk out. But, sitting there, he realized that Self-Sabotaging Sylvain might _actually_ decide to end their… relationship? rather than risk being hurt later down the road. So the kiss was more for his own benefit than Sylvain’s. One more for the road, so to speak.

He just hoped he was wrong.

~OoO~

Sylvain sprawled out on Ingrid’s bed later that evening, forlornly scrolling through selfies he’d taken of himself and Felix over the past few months; himself, smiling like a dope, Felix, scowling less than normal. He paused on one where Felix’s face was flushed from Sylvain kissing at his neck in the moments before, the dark-haired boy unaware of Sylvain’s phone until it was too late. Felix wouldn’t kiss him for the rest of the night for his transgression, but it had been worth it to get such a cute picture of him.

He sighed, laying the phone against his chest. “You sound pathetic,” Ingrid chided him from her desk. “He didn’t dump you. Which, let me tell you, I _so_ would have. Like _that_.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis before popping a handful of Skittles in her mouth.

“Thanks,” he huffed, shooting a half-hearted glare at her. “Love you too, Ing.”

“Why do you two insist on coming to me with all your problems, anyway?” she huffed.

“Who else are we going to go to?” Sylvain shot back. “Dimitri?” She snorted at the thought. “And the last time I talked to my brother about Felix, I had to sit through half an hour of him explaining, in horrible, graphic detail, how to have sex with a guy in a crowded McDonald’s.”

“I really didn’t need to hear that.”

“You and me both.”

“And why would you and Felix be having sex in a crowded McDonald’s?”

“What…? No,” he huffed. “ _Miklan and I_ were in a crowded McDonald’s.”

“...Right, that makes more sense.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know why you still talk to your brother. He tried to kill you.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “ _Threatened_ to kill me,” he reminded her. “We’ve had this discussion before. And I’m not here to talk about my brother.”

“No, you just want me to solve all your boy problems for you.”

“I’ve never had boy problems before,” he whined. “I needed an expert opinion.”

“I’m going to ignore the insinuation that I have enough trouble with boys to be an expert,” she said dryly.

“He said I sabotage myself.”

She didn’t respond, and he opened an eye to glance at her, expectant. “And?”

“I’m not self-sabotaging.”

“And I don’t like horses,” she scoffed, typing something rapidly on her phone. “This is you,” she said, just a second before his own phone pinged with a text. It was a meme, where a little brain noted that things were going well, decided that they were going _too well_ , and turned around to press a big red button marked 'Self-Destruct.'

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m not joking,” she insisted very seriously. “Sylvain, you have a problem.”

 _A bit of an understatement_ , he thought a bitterly. He turned toward her, sighing and meeting her eyes evenly. “What do I do?”

“Exactly what he told you to do,” she said, as if it was that simple. “Decide what you want and talk to him.”

He looked at the photo on his phone again, running his thumb over the pixels that made up Felix’s pink cheeks. “What if I fuck it up?”

Her voice was surprisingly soft when she answered. “That’s a risk you have to decide if you’re willing to take.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy
> 
> I tried so, so hard to get the image of the brain meme to work, but could not get it to not be a blank box. If you don't know the meme, just google 'self-destructing brain meme' or something. I'm salty it didn't work, because I thought it would have been funny, but I'm pretty technologically inept, so I dunno, fam.


	5. You can't deny sparks start to fly, and I'm not ready to drop you and I

It was hard to ignore Sylvain at school over the next couple of days, especially when he could feel his dopey, kicked-puppy eyes on the back of his head during their every shared class (damn it, why did they have to schedule as many classes together as they could?). But Sylvain was doing a good job respecting Felix’s wishes that he not try talking to him for a few days. Whenever he happened to spare a glance at the redhead – which was, admittedly, quite a lot – he could practically see the unspoken words Sylvain barely contained behind red lips nearly bitten raw.

Felix guessed he must have talked to Ingrid, because the blonde was shooting him sharp looks at pretty regular intervals, and she didn’t look too surprised to see them no talking. Dimitri on the other hand, the clueless dope that he was, looked lost and concerned, haplessly trying to prompt them into talking to each other until Ingrid jabbed him sharply in the ribs during lunch the day after their talk and told him to butt out.

All in all, the mood was dour and generally unpleasant. All the while, Felix couldn’t rid himself of the worry that Sylvain might actually chose to end things rather than risk getting hurt later down the road. The thought curdled in Felix’s stomach, and did nothing to help his already sour mood. Though he’d never admit it out loud, maybe not even to Sylvain, he’d come to appreciate and even crave the attention and affection Sylvain liked to lavished on him when they were together. From small things, like winding their fingers together or toying with the ends of his hair when he let it down, to more intense ones, when they pressed close together and let their hands roam-

“Felix?” Ms. Cassagranda prompted, looking at him expectantly. Fuck, that was a bad line of thought to get stuck on during Calculus. It had been four days since his talk with Sylvain. “Oh, finally awake? Maybe you’d like to come solve the problem on the board for me.”

“Not really,” he huffed, crossing his arms as a few of the students tittered quietly behind their hands.

Ms. Cassagranda didn’t seem too amused, putting a hand on her hips. “Cute. Let me rephrase. Felix, come solve the problem on the board for me.”

He could have argued; he’d done it before, and eventually Ms. Cassagranda would get flustered and frustrated enough that she would stomp her foot and send him to the office. He could feel Sylvain’s eyes on him, though, and realized he wasn’t even in the mood to be petulant. With a sigh, he stood and stalked up to the board, surprising even Ms. Cassagranda.

He didn’t pay attention to if he’d gotten the problem right or wrong, he didn’t care. As he returned to his seat, he briefly met eyes with Sylvain for the first time in days. Sylvain looked sad, pleading, pained. Felix dropped his gaze to the floor, hoping the flush he could feel spreading over his cheeks went unnoticed. Ugh. He felt pathetic and desperate. For all Felix liked to play cold and unfeeling, he wished it could be true if even just for a few minutes.

Sixth period gym had been especially rough, since they were gym partners. It was easy enough to not talk to Sylvain when they were running laps or were picked on different teams during dodge ball and kick ball, but their days in the weight room were practically torture.

Felix resolved to grit his teeth and bear it, claiming a weight bench as an excuse to not have to talk. Sylvain watched him as he loaded on the weights and laid down. He didn’t, however, considered the fact that Sylvain, who was spotting him, would have absolutely no trouble speaking and would have Felix as a captive audience as he did his reps.

The redhead glanced around him for a moment, making sure no one was paying them any particular attention. “Am I allowed to talk to you yet?” he asked softly, voice barely carrying over the music Mr. Eisner put on while they worked out.

“Hmph,” Felix grunted, deciding he would let Sylvain make of that what he would.

Sylvain took it as the go-ahead to talk, because of course he did. “I thought about what you said. You were right.”

“No shit.”

“Ingrid says I have a problem.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to fix it,” he admitted, and it was probably the most sincere he’d ever heard Sylvain sound. Felix’s breath hitched, and he hoped Sylvain would think it was due to the strain of the weights. He paused, nearly losing the count of presses he’d done. “But… I want to try.”

Felix didn’t know how to respond to that. “Okay,” was all he could manage. At this point, he _did_ lose count, but decided he was probably close enough. Sylvain looked like he wanted to say more, but Felix sat the barbel back in place. He sat up, took a long drink from his water bottle, and still had nothing more significant to say. Sylvain was staring at him, all puppy-dog eyes and awkward shifting. Felix sighed, feeling his scowl soften. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Sylvain brightened a little, his lips tugging up slightly. They switched places after Sylvain loaded a few more pounds onto the barbel. Felix secretly begrudged Sylvain his naturally bulkier frame and more obvious muscle tone. Felix was more slight, fast on his feet, and strong enough in his own right, but Sylvain was just unfairly stronger. Though, if he was being honest, he certainly reaped the benefits as he watched Sylvain work out, his muscles flexing and- fuck, another dangerous train of thought.

Sylvain must have caught him staring, as he offered a cocky smile thought his concentration. “Like what you see?” he teased, light and breathy.

“Shut up.” Sylvain winked up at him and kept his mouth shut. But seeing Sylvain acting more like himself lifted a weight off Felix’s shoulders he hadn’t realized was there.

They didn’t have time to talk once they finished their bench presses. They had to move on to other stations, closer to their classmates, where a careless conversation would be easily overheard. The minutes until the end of the period ticked on slowly. When they were finally dismissed to the locker room, Sylvain was held back by Mr. Eisner who wanted to discuss some stupid lacrosse thing that apparently couldn’t wait until practice.

Felix drug his feet in the locker room as he changed, waiting for Sylvain to catch up. Some of the other boys were already starting to filter out by the time Sylvain finally made it and changed quickly. Felix tied his shoes as slowly as he could manage until they were the last two in the room.

Not wasting a moment, Sylvain sat down on the bench next to him, and Felix finished his knot. They sat in silence for a moment, just staring at each other. “So?” Felix dared to ask.

Sylvain sighed heavily. “I’m going to fuck everything up, Fe.” He hung his head, sweat-damp hair lank over his eyes. “I’m a fuck-up.”

Felix took his hand, surprising both of them. “You’re not a fuck-up,” he told Sylvain, leaving no room for argument in his tone. “And we’ll figure it out.”

Sylvain smiled; it was a small, kind of sad smile, but it reached his eyes. “I don’t… I don’t deserve any of this.”

“You’re an idiot,” Felix scoffed, then silently cursed himself for falling back on his habit of being rude when he didn’t know how to say what he meant.

But Sylvain laughed. _Really laughed_ , staring at Felix in wonder. “You really know how to make a guy feel special,” he teased.

The bubble of tension burst, and Felix did what he’d been wanting to do for days; he leaned in and gave Sylvain a slow kiss. “Come on, we’re going to be late,” he muttered when they finally broke apart a moment later. As if on cue, the bell rang. Sylvain nodded, now smiling like a dope, and they walked together to their seventh period Chemistry class where Mr. Hanneman scolded them for five minutes for their tardiness.

Eighth period Fódlan Literature, a class Felix shared with just Dimitri, passed agonizingly slowly before the four of them were able to regroup during their ninth period study hall in the cafeteria. Ingrid and Dimitri seemed to notice immediately that the tension between the two of them had passed. Ingrid muttered a relieved “Thank the goddess,” under her breath when they actually _spoke_ to each other.

A few minutes in, Felix was practically tackled from behind. “Feeeliiiiiix~” Annette’s chipper voice squealed as she wound her arms around him and buried her face in his hair.

“What?” he huffed, trying and failing to shrug her off.

He could practically hear her smirk as she leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You didn’t tell me why you were _sooo_ interested in what Sylvain was doing at the party.”

“What are you talking about?”

She finally released him, sinking into the seat next to him, giving him a knowing look. “I thought we were better friends than this,” she scolded lightly. “You should have told me!”

“Told you _what_?”

Her brow furrowed as she looked between the four of them, all staring at her like she was a madwoman – an apt description for Annette some days, honestly – and her mouth fell open in a small O. “You haven’t heard yet, have you?”

The four of them shared a look, confused. “Apparently not,” Ingrid said.

Annette smiled like Christmas had come early. “Well, the rumor is that _you two_ -” she shot a pointed look at Sylvain and Felix “-were making out in the locker room after gym class.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Felix felt his face heat as he stared at her. “I wouldn’t say it was _making out_ ,” Sylvain protested next to him, sounding remarkably casual and unfazed. “It was like, ten seconds, max.”

“Sylvain,” Felix huffed, rounding on him with a scowl.

“What?” he laughed, a smile playing on his lips. “Come on, Fe, apparently everyone already knows-”

“-And everyone’s _super_ happy for you!” Annette butted in. “Bernadetta was practically crying happy tears when she found out. She’s been rooting for you two since fourth grade.”

“Fourth grade?” Ingrid wondered, impressed.

Annette nodded very seriously. “Bernadetta has, like, a sixth sense for relationships. She doesn’t talk very much, but she watches and listens to everything. She called Hilda and Khalid pretty much the second they met.”

“I think everyone did,” Sylvain dismissed. “It was pretty obvious.”

“They did?” clueless Dimitri asked, brow furrowed. Ingrid patted him on the shoulder in pity.

“And, like, she knew about Hubert and Ferdie _months_ before anyone else.” That one was actually kind of impressive, considering they were technically still ‘secretly’ together; it was probably Garreg Mach High’s worst-kept secret. Everyone figured it out in the middle of the year before, pieced together from a bunch of small rumors of things people had heard and seen. Once they put it together, it was pretty obvious in hindsight.

“Her latest prediction,” Annette continued, “is Marianne and…” Her eyes fell on Dimitri. “A certain _prince charming_.” Dimitri blinked, oblivious, glancing over his shoulder as if he thought she was referring to someone behind him. They all sighed at the sight. “Anyway… I’m so happy for you two!” She gave them each a quick hug before meandering off to sit with Mercedes.

The silence that hung over them was heavy, until it was broken by Dimitri. “Who do you think Annette was calling ‘prince charming?’”

Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hey, Dimitri, can you go get me a bottle of water from the vending machine?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” He stood, always eager to help, and left to carry out her request.

Ingrid waited until he was out of sight before she stood as well, shoving her notebooks into her backpack. “I think you two have some stuff to talk about.”

“Where are you going?” Sylvain wondered.

“I’m going to go explain the prince charming thing to him, slowly and in small words that he will understand.” She sighed. “Sothis help me.”

And they were alone. “So,” Sylvain muttered after a moment.

“Yeah.”

“Look… I don’t mind if people know,” he admitted. “It might be kind of nice, not having to hide it. But, if you’re not comfortable with it, nothing has to change. We can be like Hubert and Ferdinand.” Felix scowled at the thought. He could feel his cheeks burning as Sylvain patiently waited for him to respond. Slowly, he reached over, and for the second time that day, took Sylvain’s hand in his own. He didn’t try and do it sneakily, or try to hide it; their hands rested on the table between them for the goddess and everyone to see. Sylvain beamed. “Are you sure, Fe?”

“Obviously,” he huffed, squeezing Sylvain’s hand tighter.

Sylvain laughed, squeezing back, and scooted closer to Felix so their shoulder brushed. “Might be a little late for this, but… uh, will you go out with me?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Dumb ass.” But even Felix wasn’t so emotionless that he stop the corners of his lips from tugging up just the slightest bit. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Dream Alone by NateWantsToBattle/Nathan Sharp
> 
> Sappy, happy Sylvix = <3


	6. I could be an accident but I'm still trying (OR: It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: non-explicit sex, fade to black. If you're not about that, you can read up until the first page break.
> 
> Super sappy, mushy, fluffy Sylvix ahead.

Dimitri and Ingrid returned ten minutes later, Ingrid looking exasperated, Dimitri with cheeks flushed light pink. She arched an eyebrow, seeing their hands twined together openly on the table, but she held whatever snarky comment Sylvain was sure burned on her tongue.

And Dimitri wasn’t the only one who was pink. Felix’s head was bowed over his phone, but Sylvain could see the tips of his ears flushed red, stark against his pale skin. It was, in Sylvain’s completely unbiased opinion, insanely cute. He wanted to pull him into a kiss, but their classmates already had enough to gossip about as it was, so he held himself back; there would be time for that later, once they were alone.

Throughout the remainder of the period, a few of their classmates would slowly trickle over to confirm the rumors, emboldened by the sight of them brazenly holding hands. Felix looked like he wanted to either shrivel up and die at the attention, or punch each and every one of the curious students as they approached… or both. Sylvain, however, laughed and answered their questions before sending them scurrying away, vigorously typing out texts as they went.

“Goddess,” Felix huffed after about the sixth time, “is gossip all anyone in this fucking school cares about?”

Sylvain laughed, pulling his hand out of Felix’s and draping his arm over his shoulder. “They’ll get bored of us eventually,” he promised, “once a shiny, new story comes up.” Felix grumbled, but didn’t respond.

Finally, the bell rang, and they were free to go. Sylvain walked with Felix against his side, arm still over his shoulder, and while Felix’s face burned, he didn’t protest. “Is this okay?” Sylvain asked softly, just to be sure.

“It’s fine,” Felix huffed.

“‘Cause, if it’s not-”

“I said it’s fine. Really.”

Sylvain smiled. “Good.”

They had nearly reached their lockers when a voice cut over the din of the crowd. “I see the rumors are true,” Khalid said, grinning broadly. Hilda was glued to his side, as usual, looking smug as she blew bubbles with a wad of pink gum. “Glad you two worked it out.”

Sylvain blinked. “ _That’s_ what you were talking about the morning after the party?” Felix detached himself from Sylvain and shoved past Khalid to get to his locker; Sylvain had the sinking suspicion that he just wanted to hide his face, but he said nothing.

“Good for you two,” Khalid continued, not acknowledging Sylvain’s question. “We were beginning to think you two were going to try and keep it secret forever, like Hubert and Ferdinand.”

“Wait,” Sylvain muttered, Khalid’s words sinking in slowly, “what? You two already knew?”

“Duh,” Hilda huffed, rolling her eyes. “You two are _super_ obvious. I’m surprised no one was talking about it, like, months ago.”

Felix glanced over his shoulder, still adorably pink. Sylvain couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that passed his lips at the realization that they probably hadn’t been very subtle over the past few months. Sure, they hadn’t been open about it, but the people around them weren’t blind and the two of them didn’t exist in a bubble.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a sharp voice from behind cut him off. “Ah, Mr. Gautier, Mr. Fraldarius, I’ve been looking for you.” Sylvain spun around to see Mr. Cichol, the vice principal, looming over him with his usual tight frown. “A word, please?”

Khalid shot Sylvain a parting sympathetic smile before pulling Hilda away. Ingrid idled her way back down the hall, standing a ways away by Dimitri’s locker while the two of them pretended they weren’t watching. Beside him, Felix stiffened, fists clenching around the straps of his backpack over his shoulders.

Mr. Cichol’s eyes fell on Sylvain. “We’ve had this conversation before, Mr. Gautier,” he chided, “and I loathe repeating myself, but since this is the first time I’ve had to speak with you, Mr. Fraldarius, I will leave you with just a warning… this time.

“Our school has a clearly defined code of conduct. An incident that occurred earlier today has come to my attention.” Sylvain opened his mouth to argue, but Mr. Cichol cut him off with a sharp look. “I have no interest what you do in your own time, nor with whom. That is your business, not mine. But such flagrant public displays of affection will not be tolerated. You are seniors and nearly adults; you know what is appropriate and what is not. If I hear any more on the matter in the future, I’m afraid I will have no choice but to take further action. I see no reason to switch one of you to a different gym period if you can be responsible, but I will if this problem persists.”

Sylvain let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Felix looked like he was going to die of embarrassment, but all in all, things could have gone worse; Sylvain had been one PDA write-up away from actually getting in trouble, and that was one suspension he didn’t want to have to explain to his father. He nearly shuddered at the thought. “Absolutely, Mr. Cichol,” he agreed easily. “It was a lapse in judgment, and I promise, it won’t happen again.”

The vice principal didn’t look too reassured – probably because Sylvain had said the exact same thing to him about a dozen times – but he nodded stiffly. “I will hold you to that, Mr. Gautier, Mr. Fraldarius.” With a last piercing look at them, he turned on his heels and headed away.

“Tch,” Felix sighed once he was gone, crossing his arms tight in front of his chest, “could this day be any more embarrassing?”

Sylvain grinned, pulling him to his side once more. “Come over after practice, and I’ll make it up to you later.” Felix huffed and shoved him away, but if Sylvain didn’t know any better, he would have almost thought the boy looked rather pleased at the thought. Sylvain certainly was, anyway.

“Ugh,” Ingrid groaned, coming up beside them with Dimitri in tow. “Get a room.”

~OoO~

As Sylvain had predicted, things started to settle down after a couple weeks, much to Felix’s relief. It had taken a few days before he stopped going red at even the slightest mention of him and Sylvain dating. Which, after months of skirting around it, they were finally calling it what it was. The thought was still strange to Felix. He was dating Sylvain. Sylvain was his boyfriend. Strange... but not bad strange.

Another month passed and things were, once again, falling into a new normal. So, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised when Sylvain noticed the subtle shift in his mood before he did.

They were sprawled out on Felix’s bed on a particularly lazy Saturday night, alone at Felix’s house, chem text books open in front of them as they studied for an upcoming test. Sylvain alternated between toying with the ends of his hair and rubbing gentle circles on his back. The text was all running together, and when Felix realized he’d read the same paragraph three times in a row without gleaning any meaning from it, he snapped his book shut and shoved it hard enough it fell off the edge of the bed with a thud.

Sylvain was silent for a moment, hand soft and soothing over Felix’s back, before he shut his own book and pushed it to the side. He pulled Felix into his lap, and Felix let it happen, glowering at the wall. “Are you okay, Fe?” Felix didn’t answer, but Sylvain didn’t seem to need him to. “It’s the accident, isn’t it?” he guessed gently.

Felix felt his stomach roll. In a few days, the two year anniversary of the car accident that killed Glenn and Dimitri’s parents would pass, and as much as Felix tried to pretend it wasn’t going to get to him, he couldn’t hide it from Sylvain. “Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Sylvain held him tight, cradling him like a child, and it was nice – Felix wouldn’t say that, but Sylvain knew it anyway.

“No.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Felix took a deep breath, fighting his instinct to tell Sylvain to fuck off and leave him alone. Sylvain had, over the past month, been doing well working on his issues, talking to Felix when he started to panic and feel like he was going to self-destruct. It would have been hypocritical for Felix to not try and work on his own problems. That meant not shoving Sylvain away any time something remotely close to emotion started getting the better of him.

Sylvain was patient, letting him take the time to breathe and think through his words. “Just… this is good.”

Sylvain smiled softly and held Felix closer. “Do you want me to put on some music?” he offered. Felix nodded. Sylvain released his grip for a moment, working his phone from his pocket and fiddling one-handed to get his music app open. A moment later, light music started playing from Felix’s Bluetooth speaker. Sylvain seemed content to just hold him.

Felix pulled Sylvain down to kiss him, and the redhead was pliant to the unspoken request. As was usual with them, it didn’t take long before slow, tender kisses gave way to deeper, hungrier ones. Felix’s mind went blank as he let himself get lost in them. He was unsure how he ended up on his back, Sylvain draped over him, warm and heavy as they grinded against each other, but he wasn't complaining.

Felix broke the kiss, breathless. Sylvain’s pupils were blown, more black than brown, as he drew back. “You okay? Do you want to stop?”

“No…” He most certainly didn’t want to stop. Heat pooled low in his stomach, and he struggled to place the feeling… _want_.

Sylvain cocked his head to the side, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Fe? Talk to me.” Felix floundered for words. He’d been thinking about it a lot, even since before Sylvain went to the party. When was the right time? Was it too soon? How was he supposed to know? But, in that moment, with Sylvain over him, flushed and breathless and warm, Felix _wanted_ so much it was hard to breathe, hard to think. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Fe.”

“I…” How was he supposed to do that? “I… want…” Goddess damn it, why was it so hard? It was just three simple words. He felt like he was choking on them, drowning in them, smothered by them.

“What do you want?” he urged. “I can’t read your mind, you have to talk to me.” Easier said than… well, _said_. “What do you want, Fe?”

“Y…” One syllable. One. Fucking. Syllable. _Fucking spit it out_. “You.” Sylvain swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If… if you want…”

“Fuck,” Sylvain breathed. “Yeah. Yes.” He pulled Felix in for a deep, clumsy kiss, just for a moment. “Are you sure?” Felix nodded. Then Sylvain pulled away from Felix, weight and warmth gone. Felix sat up, watching as Sylvain scrambled for his backpack on the floor and dumped it out on the floor, searching.

Felix stared in a combination of disbelief and exasperation when Sylvain laid a condom and a bottle of lube down next to them. “You just had those in your backpack?” he asked dryly, as if he didn't have the same things hidden in the back of his nightstand's drawer. Just in case. And, by Sothis, that had been an unpleasant trip to the drug store- he pushed the thought away; that wasn't important.

Sylvain grinned that crooked, cocky grin, arching his eyebrows suggestively. “Preparedness is next to godliness.”

Felix glared. “That’s not the saying.”

“I don’t really care,” Sylvain admitted before pulling Felix in for another dizzying kiss, gently pressing him down onto his back.

~OoO~

Sylvain held Felix against his chest, both of them still breathing heavily. Felix relaxed into the post-sex cuddles, his head resting against Sylvain’s shoulder. He watched Felix’s face, a rare instance where there was no trace of a scowl or frown. He just looked content.

For a moment. Then his brow furrowed. Sylvain was confused, more so when Felix groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “What?” Sylvain wondered, amused. “Don’t tell me you’re already having regrets.”

He moved his arm enough to glare up at Sylvain. “Please tell me we did _not_ just have sex to _Africa_.” Sylvain listened. Sure enough, the tail-end of the infamous Toto song’s instrumental interlude drifted lightly from the speaker that Sylvain had left playing. He laughed, resisting the urge to tell Felix that the song most certainly hadn’t been playing when they started, doubting it would matter much to Felix.

Instead, he let his lips ghost over the shell of Felix’s ear. “It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away~ from you~” he sang softly along once the chorus kicked in.

“Stop,” Felix groaned, trying to worm away from Sylvain.

Sylvain, in response, trailed his lips lower, over Felix’s jaw. “There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever~ do~”

“I’m going to punch you.”

Laughing, Sylvain pressed his lips against Felix’s neck. “I bless the rains~ down in Africa~”

“I am never having sex with you again.”

“Really?” Sylvain challenged. Felix scowled, until Sylvain worked at a spot on Felix’s neck that never failed to drive the dark-haired boy crazy. As expected, Felix’s back arched and he melted into the touch. With a low, victorious laugh, Sylvain pulled away. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I hate you,” he grumbled, but Sylvain could see the small smile playing on his lips.

“Liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title(s): Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy by Fall Out Boy (Africa by Toto)
> 
> Well, that was both fun to write and terrifying to post. Hope it's not too cringe.


	7. Everybody needs somebody, and you got me

The Lone Moon fell on them with little warning, and the sudden realization that it was just a little over two months until graduation hit Sylvain like a brick. While things had been rocky and undefined for the majority of it, it was crazy to think that he and Felix had been together over half of the school year. And, if he was being honest, for the first time in a long time, Sylvain found himself wishing things would slow down just a little bit.

It wasn’t that he wanted the year to stretch on forever. Graduation meant finally being free of his father’s expectations and scorn, and he was still all too eager for that. But Sylvain couldn’t shake the nagging thought that things were going to fall apart sooner or later. He was going to college in Almyra, after all. What would happen with him and Felix? How would their relationship fare when Sylvain was in another fucking country for the majority of the year?

He knew, eventually, they would have to talk about it, but every time he tried, he chickened out. Obviously, that wasn’t going to make matters easier. They needed to talk about it at some point, but Sylvain just couldn’t bring himself to start the conversation.

In the meantime, he distracted himself with a new objective:

“Prom?” Felix repeated, eyebrow arched and looking generally unimpressed. “Why?”

“Wow,” Sylvain laughed, rubbing the back of his head, “not exactly the reaction I was looking for. You know, usually, people get more excited when their boyfriend asks them to prom.”

“I didn’t go last year,” he huffed. "What makes you think I'd want to this year."

“You weren’t dating anyone last year.”

“I don’t dance.”

Sylvain smirked before falling into his tried-and-true puppy-dog eyes (which only worked on Felix about twenty-five percent of the time, if Sylvain had to guessed). “Please, Fe,” he pressed, taking Felix’s hand. The dark-haired boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “This is the only dance I’m going to get the chance to take you to.” Felix was pointedly glaring at the wall over Sylvain’s shoulder, but Sylvain could see him fighting back a smile. “Will you go to prom with me? Please?”

“Fine,” he relented with an exaggerated sigh, as if it was the biggest inconvenience. “But don’t expect me to dance the whole time.”

Sylvain laughed again, relishing in his small victory, and pressed a soft kiss to Felix’s cheek. “You’re the best.”

“You know our moms are going to demand pictures of us with our ‘dates,’” Felix noted dryly.

That… was certainly a problem. Up to that point, they’d done a good job keeping things hidden from their parents. Sothis help them if that ever changed. The thought was almost enough to send a shudder down Sylvain’s spine.

“I’m sure we can convince a couple girls to pose for pictures with us,” Sylvain dismissed after a moment. “Ingrid will do it, even if she complains. And Marianne probably wouldn’t mind, if Dimitri ever grows a pair and asks her to go with him.”

“Fine, but _you’re_ asking Ingrid.”

“Aw, scared?” Sylvain teased, earning himself a glare for the trouble. “But, okay, as you’re wonderful, awesome, brave boyfriend-”

“Don’t forget modest,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll call Ingrid right now.”

“Put it on speaker,” he ordered with a smirk.

Sylvain pulled out his phone and dialed Ingrid, doing as he was asked and turning on speaker phone. Ingrid answered a moment later. “Don’t you bother me enough at school?” she sighed in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Clearly not,” he laughed, “since you answered.”

“What do you want?” As much as Ingrid liked to pretend to be annoyed by them, she usually wasn’t so short with him.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“Believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you, Sylvain.” There was a soft giggle in the background, one that clearly wasn’t Ingrid or one of her brothers. Felix and Sylvain shared a look, confused. “What do you want?”

“Felix and I-”

“Leave me out of this,” Felix huffed.

“… _I_ was wondering if you could do us a favor.” She didn’t say anything, and Sylvain took it as an invitation to keep talking. “I convinced Felix to go to prom with me, but we know our moms are going to want prom pictures-”

“So you want me to take fake pictures with you so they don’t get suspicious,” she guessed lamely.

“You know me so well, Ing,” Sylvain cooed. “So, what do you say? Help us out?”

“No.”

At the same moment, however, a very chipper and excited voice chimed, “Absolutely!”

Ingrid groaned. “Annette,” she whined. Felix’s brow furrowed as he stared at the phone in Sylvain’s hand. Ingrid didn’t really hang out with Annette much, as far as they were aware.

“Come on, Ingrid,” Annette plead. “I was just talking about this the other day. My mom won’t understand, and you said you were worried about what your dad was going to say, and-”

“Wait,” Sylvain muttered, cutting her off. “Are you two going to prom together?” It was easy enough to picture Ingrid’s flushed face and indignant pout in the silence that followed, and Annette’s bashful, apologetic smile.

Finally, Ingrid sighed. “Yeah. We… kinda started going out last month.”

“And you never told us,” Sylvain said with mock hurt. “I thought we were friends.”

“Oh, shut up,” she huffed. “I didn’t want to say anything too early, and then it just never seemed like a good time to bring it up…”

Ingrid had always been like that. She held her relationships close to her chest as long as she could. Their freshman year, Sylvain hadn’t even known she’d dated Ashe for three months until she came to him upset that they broke up. It had been a while since she’d dated anyone though. Ever since they were young children, she’d had a massive crush on Glenn. About a year after his death, Ingrid confessed to Sylvain that she couldn’t quite find it in herself to go out with anyone else, even though a couple people that she might have really liked had asked.

“Ingrid,” he said gently, cutting off her sheepish rambling, “I’m just teasing. We’re really happy for you.”

“Thanks, guys…”

“So,” Annette mused after another long moment of silence. “This works out great. We can just tell our parents that Sylvain is taking Ingrid, and Felix is taking me. Snap a couple pictures when we get there, and done! Easy-peasy!”

~OoO~

Prom drew closer and closer. The girls picked out their dresses and the flowers (for all four of them, since Felix and Sylvain found themselves hopelessly lost in that regard). Dimitri – with some coaching from Sylvain – managed to ask Marianne to go with him, to which she managed – with some… encouragement from Hilda – to accept.

Naturally, Felix’s mother was surprised when she realized that her son was going to a dance for the first time ever. “Who are you going with?” she wondered when he asked for advice on which tie would look better the day before.

“Annette.”

Her brow furrowed. “The little redheaded girl you went out with a couple times last winter?” He nodded. “I didn’t know you got back together.”

He shrugged. “We didn’t,” he admitted. “We’re going as friends.”

She didn’t look too convinced, but she let the topic drop. “Then… the blue tie.”

Felix found himself unexpectedly and annoyingly flustered the next morning, his stomach rolling. Which was stupid. It was just a dance. He realized, as he brushed his teeth mechanically in front of the mirror, that his face was flushing at the thought of dancing with Sylvain, pressed close to him for everyone to see. Sure, they held hands and stuff at school, or Sylvain would put his arm over Felix’s shoulder or around his waist… but dancing?

He tried not to dwell on his growing nerves as the day passed. Eventually, he had to start getting ready. The hot water of the shower soothed him some. He dressed slowly, already feeling uncomfortable in the stuffy dress clothes. The last time he’d been in a suit had been Glenn’s funeral… He pushed the thought away. As Sylvain had been reminding him all month, prom was supposed to be a happy occasion, not a miserable one.

His mom was waiting excitedly when he came downstairs, camera app on her phone already open. She started snapping pictures the second he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, my handsome boy,” she cooed. “Smile, Felix!” He stared blankly as she snapped another dozen pictures.

“Are you done yet?”

She sighed and put her phone down. “I suppose,” she sighed. “You really are no fun.”

“Sorry,” he huffed, not sorry.

Since she’d been denied taking pictures, she started fussing over him, smoothing out creases on his jacket and straightening his tie. He swatted her hands away when she started messing with his hair. He’d actually put some effort into styling it, since it was long enough to do so, rather than just putting it in a messy knot like any other day. He’d spent an embarrassingly long time watching YouTube tutorials on braiding hair while Ingrid offered unhelpful advice over video chat. His bangs were easier, side-swept to the right and held in place with pomade. In the end, the effort was worth it, because his hair was sleek, shiny, and perfectly braided over his left shoulder.

“I’m going to be late.”

She smiled wistfully, brushing a last bit of lint of his shoulder before standing aside. “Make sure you get lots of pictures.”

“I will.”

Annette was still getting ready when Felix pulled into her driveway. Her mom, a nice woman with dark blonde hair and kind eyes, showed Felix in and invited him to take a seat while they waited. She attempted pleasant small talk, but gave up when she realized that Felix’s habit of giving disinterested, monosyllable answers hadn’t changed in the past few months since they met.

Annette raced down the stairs a few minutes later in a poofy white dress with orange accents that matched her hair perfectly. Her hair was straightened until it was a sleek sheet that came to her mid-back, and there were several artificial teal flowers pinned in to look like a head band. She bounded up to Felix excitedly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and planting a quick kiss to his cheek. “You look nice,” he offered politely.

“Not too bad yourself,” she giggled with a little wink. Her mom insisted on getting a few photos before they left, which consisted of Felix standing with his arm awkwardly around her waist while she hugged him around the middle and smile for the camera. Felix… didn’t glare. After getting a stern warning about being home before midnight, they were allowed to leave.

“I love your hair,” she gushed as they drove. They were meeting the others at the venue, and dinner would be served before the dance started, so it was easier to drive separate rather than carpool. “It’s going to drive Sylvain wild.” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He smoothed a hand over his bangs self-consciously. “You really think he’ll like it?”

“Felix, you could show up with bed head and he would like it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He _loves_ your hair,” she said as if it should have been obvious. “He’s always touching it and playing with it. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I guess?” Now that she mentioned it, he realized she was right. Sometimes, Sylvain never seemed to leave it alone, be it toying with the ends or running his fingers through it or pulling- He cut that thought off before he let it get too far.

“Did you learn to braid just for tonight?” He felt his face heat, and he pointedly kept his eyes locked straight ahead on the road. “You’re adorable, Felix!”

“Shut up,” he muttered weakly.

“Nuh-uh!” She grinned wickedly. “ _Suits and dresses and flowers and kisses_ ,” she sang to a tune of her own creation, “ _sway to the music, misters and misses/ everything is going to be swell tonight/ as we dance and laugh and delight~_ ”

“Not your best,” he admitted when she paused for his input, but she just laughed and kept singing and singing. Something about it, however, settled the creeping nerves in his stomach.

The venue, a conservatory with a large banquet hall that would serve as both the dining room and dance floor, was already swarming when they got there. Some of their flashier classmates arrived in limos. Sylvain, Ingrid, Dimitri, and Marianne were already waiting near by some well-groomed topiaries near the entrance. Blue and silver streamer bedecked the low garden walls and pointed toward the check-in table.

Ingrid seemed to be the inverse of Annette. Her dress was white with teal accents, and her hair, expertly pinned up, was strewn with orange artificial flowers. It was almost sickeningly adorable. Marianne looked uncomfortable in her powder blue dress, her hair curled and sprayed to stay locked in place. Her arm was wound through Dimitri’s, and he looked like he was feeling just as out-of-place as his date. His hair was combed back out of his eyes, the ends of it coming to a soft curl just under his ears.

Then there was Sylvain. He cut a sharp figure in his suit, Felix noticed, with his broad shoulders and carefully styled disheveled hair. His eyes fell on Felix and lit up. Felix could feel his cheeks flush and he cursed his stupidly pale skin, not for the first time.

Sylvain swooped on him as soon as they approached, kissing him softly on the lips. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Felix pushed him away. “Stop being embarrassing,” he chided. Sylvain didn’t look discouraged, fingers already trailing lightly over the tight weave of his braid. Felix slapped his hand away, a little more forcefully than he intended. “That took me forever. Don’t mess it up.”

Sylvain pouted. “Can I mess it up later?” He heard Annette giggle somewhere off to his side.

“Tch. Not if you keep saying embarrassing shit.” Sylvain grinned, and Felix tried his best to push down the swell of over-emotion that bubbled in him. “You look… good.” Annette giggled again, and Felix silently cursed himself. Good? That was the best he could do? Thankfully, Sylvain was all too familiar with the way Felix struggled to say what he meant, and smiled, eyes soft and fond.

Ingrid cleared her throat loudly. “Could we maybe… get going? Your shameless flirting is making Marianne uncomfortable.”

Marianne, whose cheeks were already flushed, further reddened at being called out, sinking against Dimitri’s side as if she wished to disappear. “No,” she insisted, voice almost too soft to hear. “Really, it’s fine…”

“Sorry, Marianne,” Sylvain said sincerely, prying himself away from Felix. They took a moment and exchanged the flowers that had nearly gone forgotten.

“We should do pictures now!” Annette suggested once that was out of the way. Around them, their classmates were busy snapping picks against the lovely gardens in the gentle evening light. “Dimitri, Marianne, why don’t you go first?”

“Oh, alright,” Dimitri agreed. Annette positioned them in front of the topiary and Dimitri handed over his phone. She barked orders for them to move this way and that, and finally returned his phone once she was satisfied with the shots.

“Alright, Felix, why don’t you and I go next?”

“Fine.” Sylvain let go of his hand, and Annette passed her phone over to Ingrid. Somehow, even though it was Annette getting photographed, she was still calling the shots, telling Ingrid how to move the camera and angle the picture. They did a couple pictures that were mostly the same as the ones her mother had taken.

Sylvain and Ingrid were next. The first picture was a typical shot of them standing side-by-side, Sylvain with a shameless arm around her waist pulling her in tight. As soon as she picture was snapped, she shoved him away. But Sylvain wasn’t done. Annette squealed with delight – and Ingrid with indignation – as Sylvain swept her off her feet and held her bridal style, Ingrid’s arms wrapped around his neck in a moment of panic. Once she was back on her feet, she smacked him with her clutch, but in the end relented because Annette insisted it was a cute picture.

Annette pressed her phone into Felix’s hand and dragged Ingrid over to get some pictures of their own. Felix mostly ignored her orders and just took the damn pictures.

“Our turn,” Sylvain announced once they were done. Felix glared, ready to protest, but honestly, he’d kind of seen it coming. “Come on, Fe, just a couple pictures.”

“Fine.” Sylvain bent over to whisper something in Annette’s ear, and they both eyed him with mischief, giving Felix the distinct impression that he wasn’t going to like what they were planning.

Felix tried his hardest to offer a genuine smile for the first picture. It felt so… unnatural, forcing a smile. It wasn’t that Felix _never_ smiled, they just didn’t come easy. Sylvain never seemed to mind, however.

“Hey,” Sylvain muttered softly while Annette was getting ready for the second picture. Felix glanced up at him. Sylvain grabbed him around the waist, turning him so they stood face-to-face. Before Felix could react, Sylvain pulled him in for a deep kiss. Felix, surprised for a second, felt himself melt into it.

“Got it!” Annette cheered a moment later, and Sylvain pulled away, grinning. “Oh, it’s _adorable_.” She passed the phone over for them to see. There, captured in the photo, was Felix with his cheeks bright red as he kissed Sylvain, arms instinctively wound around his neck, pressed close together.

Felix glared at his boyfriend. “You’re the worst.”

Sylvain laughed, used to hearing that. “Let's do a group shot,” he said, changing the subject. They called over a passing classmate, who kindly stopped and snapped a group photo. Sylvain looked over the picture, satisfied. “Let’s head in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: I'll Be There by Walk of the Earth
> 
> I loved writing this chapter. Soft Felix has me weak.


	8. 'Cause baby tonight, DJ got us fallin' in love again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff. No shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the small delay in updating, and shorter chapter. I've found it very hard to sit down and write this past week, given the tragedy that's sent ripples throughout, not just my country (US), but many others as well. I know this isn't really the place for my rambling so I'll keep it brief, but my heart broke seeing the video of George Floyd's murder. My heart breaks seeing continued examples of racism and police brutality in the protests that have followed. I stand with you. Black lives matter.

Felix felt out of place. Dinner was pleasant, eating with his friend felt normal enough. The results of the prom queen and king vote were read – Dorothea and Yuri had been the obvious winners, even to Felix who didn’t bother voting. Then the lights dimmed and the music started, and Felix was left completely out of his element.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one. Where Annette immediately pulled a hesitant Ingrid to the dance floor, Dimitri and Marianne stayed rooted at the table, twin blushes creeping along their cheeks. Felix shot a sidelong glance over at Sylvain, rigid and uncertain. Ever since agreeing to come with Sylvain, Felix had been dreading actually dancing. The closest he’d ever gotten to dancing, since like kindergarten, was tapping his foot or bobbing his head along with a catchy song.

Sylvain just smiled patiently at him, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. Eventually Dimitri and Marianne braved the dance floor once a song with a slightly slower tempo played. “You good?” Sylvain asked as soft as he could manage over the music. Felix nodded stiffly. “We don’t have to dance if you’re not comfortable.”

“Pft,” he huffed, crossing his arms. “Then what would be the point of coming? It would be a waste of your time.”

Sylvain scooted his chair closer, putting his arm of Felix shoulder and leaning in close so he could speak softly. “Are you going to make that face you make if I say something really fucking sappy?”

“What face?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “The murder-y one.”

“No.”

“Good, then: If I’m spending my time with you, it’s not wasted.” Despite his best efforts, Felix made the murder-y face. Sylvain laughed, pressing a kiss to Felix’s cheek. “You, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, are a rotten liar.”

“Shut up.”

“Really, though. We don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.”

Felix scowled at the table, breathing evenly as he tried to put the words in order. “I… I don’t know how to… I’ll just look stupid.”

Sylvain’s eyes were soft, sparkling in the disco lights that spun around the room to the beat of the song. “It’s not about how you look. It’s about having fun.”

“What’s fun about looking stupid?” Sylvain didn’t answer, just smiled patiently, thumb rubbing small circles over the back of Felix’s hand. “Okay, fine. Just for a little bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he huffed. Sylvain’s grin was honest and so fond it made Felix forget for a moment his anxieties about dancing. Holding tight to his boyfriend’s hand, Felix let himself be guided to the dance floor. Some upbeat pop song that Felix didn’t know the name of was blaring from the DJ’s booth. Around them, their classmates bopped and swayed and shimmied to the beat, blurs of dark suits and colorful dresses.

Sylvain took both of Felix’s hands in his, smiling a lopsided smile as he started moving to the rhythm, urging Felix to follow his lead. Felix bobbed left and right in time with Sylvain, movements rigid and uncomfortable. “You gotta relax some, Fe,” Sylvain prompted over the drone of the music.

He tried, loosening his muscles and trying to mimic the way Sylvain moved. “I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, glancing over his shoulders like a man paranoid, hoping no one was staring at his pitiful display.

“You’re doing fine.” Sylvain gently tugged on Felix’s chin so he was looking into those soft hazel eyes he was so familiar with. “Fuck what anyone else thinks. Focus on me.” Felix pulled in a deep breath, trying very hard to do so. “Think of it like fencing. Your movements follow a pattern, right? You move to match the movements of your opponent. Just follow my lead.”

While that was a bit of an oversimplification, Felix found that Sylvain wasn’t entirely wrong. Once he focused less on the idea of dancing, and latched onto the idea of moving like he was fencing, his movements felt less odd and out of place. And with Sylvain still staring at him like he was the only person in the room, it was easy enough to lose himself to the flow of the movement and the syrupy sweet notes of pop songs that Felix never willingly listened to.

It was surprisingly hard work, Felix decided a couple songs later, when a sheen a sweat clung to his skin. Sylvain offered to go get punch, and Felix wandered his way back to the table. Ingrid was sitting there already, holding his heels in one hand and using the other to rub gingerly at her feet.

“Ugh,” she huffed when he sat down next to her, “why did I let Annette convince me to wear heels?” He chuckled at her plight. She gave up on her feet and simply threw them up onto his lap, the silky fabric of her dress falling over his legs. Revenge for laughing at her, no doubt. “So, you looked like you were having fun.”

“It was alright,” he dismissed.

“Mm-hmm.” He was spared from her further commentary by Sylvain returning, two cups of pink punch in hand.

“See you’re making yourself comfortable, Ing,” he noted, sitting on Felix’s other side. Felix took a sip of the punch Sylvain offered, crinkling his nose at the sweet taste. The sugar felt like it was coating the inside of his mouth, his lips, his throat. He pushed it away. “Sorry. I couldn’t find any water.”

“It’s fine.”

“So, Ingrid,” Sylvain said, turning back to the blonde with a sly smirk, “having fun?” She just arched an eyebrow. “Annette’s really good at dancing.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“You, on the other hand, looked like you were one misstep away from falling on your face.”

Ingrid glared, plucking one of her discarded heels off the floor. “Let’s see how well you dance after I shove this up your ass.”

“I would pay to see that,” Felix agreed, smirking.

Before Sylvain could protest, Annette bounded up to them, happy and elegant in her dress. “Annette,” he called, indignant, “good timing. Felix and Ingrid are ganging up on me.”

“He started it,” the two of them told her in tandem.

Annette giggled. “Sorry, Sylvain, you’re outnumbered.” He pouted playfully, and Annette turned toward Ingrid. “So, there’s this really neat garden patio thing someone was telling me about, and it’s open for the students. You wanna go check it out?”

“Sure,” Ingrid agreed easily, standing without bothering to put on her heels.

“You guys wanna come too?”

Felix and Sylvain shared a look, shrugging at each other. “Sounds good,” Sylvain decided. The three of them followed Annette away from the dance floor, through a hallway lit with strands of fairy lights.

Darkness had already fallen, and they stepped out into the cool night hair onto the patio. More fairy lights were wound around the structure, glittering lightly over delicate flowers and shrubbery. Speakers played the same music that had been playing inside, only much softer and less abrasive. A small fountain bubbled in the center, circled by several sets of wrought iron tables and chairs, small tea lights burning in the centers of each table. Off to the side, a large metal pail was filled with ice and bottles of water, and Felix grabbed one, happy to wash the lingering sugar out of his mouth.

Several other couples sat at the tables and various benches that lined the perimeter of the patio, enjoying a moment of quiet respite. Felix could make out Ignatz and Lysithea, who’d only come with him as she needed an upperclassman to be able to come at all; Petra and Ashe were chatting happily at one of the tables; Dedue and Mercedes knelt next to a small bed of flowers while Dedue told her about the different types.

Marianne and Dimitri had already found their way out, as well, and the four of them joined them at their table. The two were sitting closer than they had been before, and Felix was surprised to notice that their hands were wound together on the table between them.

They sat and chatted for a while, enjoying the cool breeze and quiet ambiance. Annette, in the middle of an animated story about a recent kitchen mishap, went silent, head cocking to the side as she focused intently. “Ooh, I love this song!” They listened for a moment. It was some soft, slow love song. “Ingrid, dance with me!”

“Out here?”

“Why not?” Ingrid didn’t seem to have a reason why not, and let Annette lead her to an open area on the other side of the fountain. The two danced slowly, Annette resting her head on Ingrid’s shoulder. Slowly, the other couples around them joined in, twirling and spinning around.

Felix wasn’t surprised when Sylvain stood, offering out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

“You’re a sap,” Felix grumbled, but he took Sylvain’s hand and they joined the others. “I don’t know how to slow dance either.”

“Just follow my lead,” he assured him, hands going around Felix’s waist and pulling him close. Felix put his arms around Sylvain’s shoulders and let himself be led in slow circles, matching his boyfriend’s easy footwork with some hesitation. He, thankfully, managed to not stomp on Sylvain’s toes, so that was a plus.

The song ended, drifting back into something more upbeat, the but slow dancing around them didn’t falter, all the pairs content to keep up their private dance. Once Felix was more comfortable with the movements, not glancing down at his feet, he let himself focus on Sylvain. It was actually quite nice, if he was being honest. He glanced up to see Sylvain’s eyes shut, face full of contentment. Very few times over the past several month had Felix seen him quite so relaxed. Sylvain wore smiles like masks, a different one for every occasion. It could be hard work at times, figuring out which smile meant what, and which ones were genuine. Contentment, however, much rarer to see.

As if he felt Felix looking, his eyes opened slowly and he smiled. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me, Fe.” His voice was barely over a whisper.

“Me too,” he admitted. “This is… nice.”

“I’m glad.” Peaceful silence fell over them again, and they just danced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: DJ Got Us Fallin' in Love by Usher


	9. I'll be yours (when it rains, it pours)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobia, homophobic parents, implied/referenced child abuse
> 
> This one's sad, guys.

Felix started wearing his hair in a braid more often, much to Sylvain’s delight. Prom had been, if Felix was letting himself be honest, actually kind of nice. Embarrassing himself dancing had _almost_ been worth the dopey look on Sylvain’s face for the week after, all lopsided smiles and helpless eyes. Honestly, Felix couldn’t recall a time Sylvain had looked so genuinely happy, and his heart flip-flopped almost painfully in his chest whenever he noticed.

With prom come and gone, however, the end of the year was just around the corner, and they really needed to buckle down and study for finals. The future had never seemed so terrifyingly close as it did in the weeks that followed. They had yet to discuss what they were going to do after graduation – in regards to their relationship, anyway. Sylvain would be off to Almyra in the fall, after all. Felix’s own college acceptance letters beat like a tell-tale heart in his desk drawer as Felix wrestled with his indecision.

And, to make matters worse, Felix’s car crapped out on him, the old piece of junk his father had bought for Glenn that fell into Felix’s lap when he was old enough to get his license – Glenn didn’t exactly need it anymore. He became reliant on Sylvain to get to-and-from school. The two had taken to studying together after school, holed up in one of their rooms or the other with bags of Doritos and entirely too much caffeine.

The room was silent save for the scratch of pencils and the occasional crunch of a chip. Late afternoon sun spilled through the window of Sylvain’s room where they sat side-by-side on the couch, noses buried in their text books. Sylvain was the first to yawn, stretching languidly, eyelids drooping as he slumped against Felix’s shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Felix scolded, playfully shoving him away, biting back a yawn of his own. “We’ve still got two more chapters to review.”

Sylvain shoved his book off to side, draping himself over Felix theatrically. “Later, Fe. ‘M sleepy.”

Felix elbowed him. “Sleep when your dead. We need to finish this.”

“Uh-uh,” he protested, sounding like a whiny child. Felix rolled his eyes. If Sylvain thought hamming it up was going to sway him, he had another thing coming. “We’ve been studying for hours. Let’s take a break.”

Felix made the mistake of meeting Sylvain’s eyes. Even half-lidded, he managed to pull off the puppy-dog eyes that Felix only sometimes fell for. The problem was, he was tired too, vision starting to blur the more paragraphs he tried to commit to memory. “Ugh. Fine.”

Sylvain flashed a sleepy smile, pressing a sloppy kiss to Felix’s cheek. “Take a nap with me. Just for an hour,” he added before Felix could protest. “I’ll set an alarm.” He supposed an hour wouldn’t hurt anything, and let Sylvain drag him to the bed.

Sylvain set the alarm on his phone while Felix pulled his hair out of its braid and let it fan out over the pillow when he laid down. Pulling Felix close to his chest, Sylvain sighed happily and went out like a light. It didn’t take long for Felix to follow suit, drifting off against the steady rise and fall of Sylvain’s chest.

They slept longer than an hour. When the alarm went off, they both groaned, falling back asleep when it was silenced. It was nearly dark when a loud thud shocked them awake. “Sylvain?” a voice boomed, and Sylvain jerked upright. Felix laid, frozen in place, just able to make out the combed back red hair of Andrew Gautier standing in the doorway from over Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Dad,” Sylvain said, voice an octave too high. Felix could see Sylvain’s hands clench into the blanket. His heart was pounding in his chest, ice running through his veins. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_ , played on loop in Felix’s mind.

“Seriously, Sylvain?” Sylvain’s head dipped, and he looked like he had all the world crashing down around him. “I thought you were past this,” he continued, anger barely contained in his voice. “Are you really so prepared to throw away your future when you get one of these girls pregnant?”

They both jolted, slightly, the realization that his father couldn’t see Felix’s face around Sylvain’s back slowly dawning on them. “I… don’t think that’s going to happen…” Sylvain muttered.

“Oh, right. You’re seventeen. Clearly, you’re immune to the consequences of your actions.” Neither of them dared to move. “And, you, young lady. What would your father say if knew what you were doing?” _Nothing good_ , Felix thought bitterly.

“Dad,” Sylvain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We weren’t doing anything. Just-”

“Be quiet, Sylvain.” He fell silent. “Well, young lady? Would your father be proud of you right now?” Felix preferred not to think about that. “Come on, get up. It’s time for you to leave.”

“Dad, please-”

“Sylvain,” he warned, voice low and dangerous, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Sylvain looked back at Felix, who felt too numb to move. He squeezed Felix’s hand, eyes dark and apologetic. “Let’s just get it over with,” he breathed.

Slowly, Felix sat up, looking at Mr. Gautier out of the corner of his eye, not dropping his death grip on Sylvain’s hand. Emotions cycled through the man’s face as he processed the scene in front of him. “Felix.” He stared between the two of them, face unreadable. “Will one of you explain what you think you’re doing?”

“Dad… I. We.” Sylvain sighed, running a hand through his hair. He drew in a deep breath, holding his head up and meeting his father’s eyes. “Felix and I are dating.”

Mr. Gautier looked like Sylvain may as well have just admitted to being a serial killer. “No. This is over.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Sylvain spat, and Felix was reasonably sure it was the first time he’d ever come close to standing up to his father. “But you don’t get to make my choices for me.”

“Felix, leave,” Mr. Gautier ordered, ignoring his son. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

“Dad, I drove him here, he doesn’t-”

“Felix, _leave_.”

“It’s fine,” Felix muttered to Sylvain, giving his hand a last squeeze before reluctantly pulling away and standing to gather his things. Mr. Gautier watched him like a hawk.

“Ashe lives in the blue house four doors down to the left, across the street,” Sylvain blurted in a rush, worried his father would cut him off again. “See if he can drive you home.” Felix nodded, teeth gritted as he had to walk past Mr. Gautier.

“And, Felix,” Mr. Gautier said, putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder to stop him as he went by, cold eyes boring into his own, “I _will_ be talking to your father.” That, among other things, was what Felix was afraid of, but he tried to keep his unaffected scowl in place. “Get out of my house.”

Felix managed to get one last look over his shoulder at Sylvain, who looked miserable and crushed, before Mr. Gautier slammed the door in his face. Worry bloomed in Felix’s chest as he stormed out of the house, feeling helpless and angry. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen behind that closed door, didn’t want to think about the look he would see on Sylvain’s face at school the next morning. Felix walked faster.

Ashe, thankfully, was home, and was entirely willing to give Felix a ride home. He chatted in his usually, bubbly way, occasionally eyeing Felix out of the corner of his eye; the silver-haired boy was always so perceptive to the moods of those around him, but thankfully didn’t feel the need to push Felix to talk about it.

When Felix got home, he was surprised to find his father already off work. Though the man never did stop working even when he was home. Felix paused in the doorway of his father’s office, hesitant, indecisive, stomach rolling uncomfortably.

“Do you need something, Felix?” he asked without looking up from his laptop. Felix didn’t answer. Didn’t know how to answer. Instead, he scowled at the floor, twisting the strap of his backpack in his hands. His father glanced up, and his brow furrowed. Felix must have looked a mess, angry and distressed with his hair still loose around his shoulder and disheveled from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He swallowed hard. _I_ will _be talking to your father_ , Mr. Gautier’s words echoed in his head. Fuck. “Can I talk to you about something?”

His father frowned slightly. “I’m very busy, can it wait-”

“It’s important.”

Something in his tone must have stuck the old man. To Felix’s surprise, he closed his laptop and stood. “Okay.” With a hand on Felix’s shoulder that the boy would have usually brushed off with a huff, he led Felix to the living room and they settled on the couch. Felix sat rigid, glaring at the floor. “I’m listening.”

“I… I don’t even know where to start,” he huffed, raking a rough hand through his hair. The old man waited patiently. Anger welled in Felix’s chest as Mr. Gautier’s words replayed themselves in his mind unbidden, the crushed look on Sylvain’s face. Sure, their dads were… of a similar opinion, but surely the old man wouldn’t react anywhere near as badly as Mr. Gautier had. Right? Felix’s fingers dug into his thighs. “I just… I thought you’d rather hear it from me than… Fuck.”

“Is this about you and Sylvain?”

Felix reeled like he’d been shocked, finally meeting his father’s gaze. There wasn’t the disdain or anger or disappointment he’d been afraid he’d see in the man’s eyes. The man was calm, though his jaw was perhaps a bit tight. “You knew?”

“I… suspected,” he admitted, shifting a little uncomfortably. “For a while. Until I saw this.” He dug around for something in the mail basket under the coffee table, returning with a copy of the school news paper that Felix never bothered to read. It was an issue from a couple weeks before, the headline talking about prom. A nice photo of Ashe and Petra in front of the venue accompanied the headline. Felix was about to ask what his father was talking about when he saw it. Just barely in focus in the background, right on the edge, was Sylvain’s unmissable fucking red hair. The picture had been snapped right at the moment Sylvain had sprung a kiss on him while they were taking their own photos.

Felix felt his face heat and he tossed the paper on the coffee table. “You never said anything,” he managed after a moment.

“I didn’t want to pry. If you wanted to tell me, I figured you would do so in your own time.” Felix snorted, though the vice on his chest seemed to loosen just a hair. “I won’t pretend I understand, but you’re life is your own. I have very little say in it.” They were silent for a long, heavy moment. “Now, what’s bothering you, Felix?”

“Mr. Gautier.” Understanding dawned over his father’s face. “He freaked out and made me leave.”

“I see. Is Sylvain alright?”

Felix’s stomach rolled. “I don’t know. He hasn’t texted me.” He double-checked his phone, just to be sure. Nothing.

“May I borrow your phone for a moment?” Felix handed it over.

~OoO~  
  


The dark streets passed in a blur of anger and adrenaline as Sylvain drove aimlessly. His hands clenched painfully around the steering wheel, trying to block out his thoughts with music entirely too loud. He almost didn’t hear the ping of his phone tossed in the passenger seat.

He considered ignoring it. It was probably his father. Or maybe his mother. Still, he pulled over to the shoulder, flicking on his hazards and opening the text.

> **Felix** : Sylvain, this is Rodrigue. I spoke to Felix. If you need somewhere to stay tonight, my door is open.

Feeling unbidden tears prickle in the corner of his eyes, Sylvain tossed the phone aside once more and started driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy
> 
> Is it cliche? Sure. Do we all know how it's gonna end? Probably. Did I write it anyway? Absolutely.


	10. We'll cast some light and you'll be alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Homophobia, referenced child abuse
> 
> Sad bois ahead.

Sylvain sat in his car for a while, parked on the dark street outside Felix’s house. Occasional twitches of the living room curtain, spilling faint slivers of golden light over the bushes that lined the front of the house, told him someone inside knew he was there. Sylvain squeezed his eyes shut, hands clenching around the steering wheel as he forced himself to breathe slowly. In through his nose, two, three, four; out through his mouth, two, three, four.

It had been about an hour since he got the text from Felix’s dad. He’d spent the time driving aimlessly, trying to sort through his jumble of thoughts before inevitably finding himself pulling down the street Felix lived on. In that time, he’d received about five voice mails from his mother, which he’d decided against listening to, and zero from his father.

If he knew his parents – which, unfortunately, he did – his house was a very silent, unpleasant place at the moment. His dad would have locked himself in his office by now, seething, and started distracting himself with one of his two favorite vices: internet poker or internet porn, something he had Miklan had discovered several years before after a particularly daring adventure of snooping through his office when he was away for the weekend on a business trip. Miraculously, they'd gotten away with it, too.

His mother, on the other hand, would have poured herself a stiff drink before claiming – through the locked office door, of course – that she had a migraine, which was code for ‘I’m not dealing with your shit tonight, you can sleep in the guest room.’ Locked in her bedroom, rather than going to bed she would sit on the balcony in the darkness, taking long drags off cigarettes pulled from a pack hidden in her jewelry box, a secret stash she kept despite her insistence that she’d kicked the habit after being pregnant with Miklan.

With a heavy sigh, Sylvain got out of the car and headed up the walk toward the house. The door opened before Sylvain even stepped foot on the porch, a Felix-shaped shadow reaching out toward him. Sylvain stopped in front of the door, hanging his head and staring abjectly at his shoes. “Sylvain,” Felix sighed, clearly not having any more idea what to say than Sylvain did. “Come on.”

Sylvain followed him in, and they sat on the couch, side-by-side. They seemed to be alone, and Felix grabbed Sylvain’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry,” Sylvain muttered, still not looking up, fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper with his free hand. He could feel Felix’s gaze on him.

“Tch, don’t apologize,” he scoffed.

“Sylvain,” Rodrigue’s voice said from the hall, soft and familiar. Felix’s hand jerked in his, but remained in place, as if Felix fought down his reflex to pull away under his father’s gaze. Sylvain’s eyes flicked up to the man. “How are you doing?”

“‘M fine,” he lied with a shrug. The man’s brow furrowed, and he shared a sharp look with his son.

At this point, Felix’s eyes were burning into him, his neck craning around as he tried to get a look at Sylvain’s face. Sylvain’s stomach flip-flopped. “Turn your head,” Felix ordered. Sylvain tipped it slightly in Felix’s direction. It was dumb, he realized, and he knew he was playing a losing game. “You know what I meant.”

With a sigh, Sylvain did as he was asked. They were both silent for a long moment, staring at the inflamed, swollen bump over his left cheekbone. It hadn’t broken skin, but it was tender and angry red in color. “What happened?” Rodrigue asked, voice even, moving to sit in the arm chair catty-corner from the couch.

Sylvain huffed, running his free hand through his hair. “After Felix left, my dad and I started arguing. It got pretty ugly. He used the words ‘unnatural’ and ‘disgusting’ a lot, so that was great.” He bit out a bitter laugh, despite it _so_ not being the time for his habit of falling back on humor when he was uncomfortable. “Mom came up and tried to get us to stop, but we just kept yelling. He got in my face, and Mom tried to pull him back, but he pushed her away. So, I shoved him, and he shoved me back.

“I… uh, I actually threw the first punch,” he admitted, flexing his sore, reddened knuckles a little. “Anyway, Mom got in between us, broke us up. I told Dad he could go fuck himself and I left.”

Rodrigue frowned, eyes sad as he glanced between the two boys in front of him. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard night.”

Sylvain shrugged. “I’ll live.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Felix’s lips twitch down, but he said nothing. “So, no offense, but I didn’t think you’d be cool with this…” He wiggled the hand that Felix was still holding tight to for emphasis.

Rodrigue sighed, and he was silent for a moment, eyes a million miles away. “When I found out Glenn and Miklan were together for a time-”

“You knew about that?” the two of them blurted together, sharing a confused look. Apparently, it was a pretty poorly-kept secret.

This, at least, seemed to amuse the man a little, his lips quirking up a little. He gave Felix a sharp look. “Your brother didn’t know how to keep a secret,” he admitted before his eyes fell on Sylvain, “and _your_ brother didn’t know how to whisper.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Mik,” Sylvain allowed.

“Anyway, I must admit, I gave Glenn no end of grief about his decisions when I found out.” He frowned, deep and pensive. “I imagine I sounded a lot like Andrew. My refusal to bend on my beliefs ended up driving a rift between us, and now I will never get the chance to fix it. Glenn spent the last year of his life believing I was ashamed of him, and I will regret that as long as I live. When I began to suspect the two of you were together in secret, I decided that I would not make the same mistake twice.”

Felix had gone rigid next to him, his jaw a hard line, as tended to happen when Glenn was mentioned. Sylvain started tracing idle circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. None of them spoke, nothing further to say, it seemed.

The door opened some time later. “Rod?” Mrs. Fraldarius’ voice called from the hall with the jingle of keys being dumped into the key bowl. She came into view, still in her scrubs from work, her eyes taking in the somber scene in front of her. “Sylvain, what are you…?” Her eyes zeroed in on the swelling on his cheek and she bustled over, sinking onto the couch next to him. “Oh, sweetie, what happened?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. F,” he insisted, even as her fingers started poking and prodding at the tender bump. He didn’t miss the dark look she spared her husband as she stood, the subtle nod he gave in response.

“I’m going to get you some ice, honey.” She ruffled his hair, like she had when he was a child, and bustled off toward the kitchen, returning a moment later with an ice pack wrapped in a dish cloth. He took it gratefully, wincing as he pressed it to his face. “Do you need anything else, pumpkin?”

Sylvain hesitated, tongue flicking over his lips. “Could you… um. Would you mind giving my mom a call?” He wasn’t ready to talk to either of his parents yet, but if her multiple voice mails were any indication, she was worried. “Just so she knows I’m here."

“Of course,” she assured him, smoothing back a lock of hair from his forehead. “You two look exhausted. You should get some sleep.” Neither of them protested as she sent them upstairs, even though they both knew they probably wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Felix disappeared to try and find something for Sylvain to wear, and Sylvain slipped into the bathroom. He hid in there for a few minutes, still pressing the ice pack to his face, reminding himself to breathe. Everything would be fine. He was okay. Felix was okay. They would be okay.

As he walked down the hall back toward Felix’s bedroom, voices from his parents’ room caught his ear, and he paused outside the door. Sylvain wasn’t really one to eavesdrop, but the sound of sniffling caught him off guard. “I hate it, Rod,” Mrs. F huffed through her sniffles. Was she crying? “He treats those boys so bad, and he just gets away with it.” Sylvain’s stomach twisted painfully. “And Tiffany is too scared to do anything to stop him.”

“Are you going to make another call?”

“Of course,” she sighed. “Not that it ever does any good. How many times have I called over the years, do you think?”

“Too many,” he sighed, heavy.

“And they’ve never even visited the house.”

“Well, Sylvain is almost eighteen now,” Rodrigue reminded her. “He’s not going to have to stay there much longer.”

“I know.” She sniffled again. “What if Andrew kicks him out like he did Miklan?”

“Then he can stay here until he goes off to college in the fall.” Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Sylvain tore himself away from their door and returned to Felix’s room.

“What took you so long?” Felix wondered when he slipped in.

“Your mom’s crying,” Sylvain sighed, flopping back on the bed.

Felix’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“My dad being an ass, mostly, I think.”

Felix didn’t respond to that, just picked at the hem of his shirt. “Um. I found you something to wear.” He gestured vaguely to a pile on the bed that consisted of a pair of thin pajama pants and a large gray t-shirt. “They’re my dad’s. I don’t have anything that would really fit you.”

“Thanks.” They changed in silence before Felix shut out the light and they slipped into bed together. Sylvain pulled Felix close, finally away from prying eyes, burying his face in a sheet of inky hair that smelled earthy and spicy, some shampoo that Sylvain didn’t know the name of.

They laid in silence for a time, the day weighing heavily on both of them. “I don’t know what to say,” Felix admitted so softly Sylvain almost missed it.

“About what?”

“To make you feel better.”

Sylvain’s heart flopped, simultaneously full of sadness and affection, and he wrapped his arms tighter around Felix, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You don’t have to say anything, Fe.” And so he didn’t. They laid there, in the dark, just breathing together until sleep finally fell over them.

~OoO~  
  


Sylvain woke, bleary and vaguely miserable the next morning, still wrapped tight around Felix. He blinked away the crust in his eyes, adjusting to the spill of crisp morning sunlight streaming through the gap under the window curtain. Felix was still asleep, though he stirred lightly as Sylvain shifted around him. In typical Felix fashion, his hair was a disaster of midnight tangles sticking in odd directions. His lips were parted slightly, face all smooth and peaceful, no scowl or frown or glare to be seen.

Acting on an impulse Sylvain rarely found himself in the situation to indulge, he bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss against Felix’s lips. The morning breath was… not great, but life was too short to care about something so trivial. He peppered Felix’s lips with soft, chaste pecks until his sleepy boyfriend grumbled against them, eyelids fluttering open. His amber eyes were hazy for a moment as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“Ugh,” he groaned, tilting his head so Sylvain’s onslaught fell against his cheek instead. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Sylvain laughed, brushing back a few stray strands of hair that fell across Felix's face.

“I was sleeping, asshole.”

“Well, it was time to wake up. It’s Friday.” Felix groaned. “We’ve still got to go to school.”

“What time is it?”

Sylvain glanced at the alarm clock on night stand. “Almost seven.” Felix groaned again. If they didn’t get up soon, they were going to be late. It dawned on Sylvain suddenly that he didn’t have his backpack, which meant he didn’t have his laptop, any of his homework, or half of his text books, but that was a problem for later. He also probably still had a swollen knot on his cheek, which would likely start bruising soon, which was also a problem for later. “We should go eat breakfast. I didn’t have dinner last night.”

“Me either,” Felix admitted, pulling out of Sylvain’s grasp and pushing himself up. Not even bothering to take a brush through his mess of bedhead, Felix led him down to the kitchen, where they were surprised to find Mrs. F busy at work fixing breakfast. Normally, on the week days, Felix would fix a frozen breakfast, or something similar.

“Morning, sleepy-heads,” she greeted brightly as they slipped into the chairs at the table. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, just waiting for the bacon to crisp up.”

“Your making bacon?” Felix asked bluntly. “Why?”

“Because I felt like it,” she huffed. “Keep up that tone, and you can go hungry, mister.” Felix rolled his eyes, but fell silent, eyeing the bacon hungrily. A few minutes later, she sat plates of bacon and scrambled eggs and sliced fruit before them, bending to press soft kisses to the tops of both their heads in turn. “I called your mom, Sylvain. We both agreed you two are in no state to go to school today.” They shared a look, surprised. Mrs. F was very much the 'if you're not dying, you can go to school' type, and Sylvain's mom didn't condone skipping school unless it was absolutely necessary. “We already called the school, so try to relax today, okay?”

“Thanks, Mrs. F,” Sylvain managed, voice thick.

“Thanks,” Felix muttered.

She smiled fondly at the two of them, and Sylvain could see an edge of sadness there, too. “I’ve got some errands to run.” She grabbed her purse off the counter, rifling through it for a moment. Her eyes fell on Sylvain again. “I don’t think it’ll be an issue, but if your dad comes here, you don’t have to let him in if you don’t want to. Call me or Rodrigue, okay?” He nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll be back in a few hours, alright?”

“Yeah,” they agreed. After a last, reluctant look, she left them to their breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Crosses by Jose Gonzalez


	11. Time only heals if we work through it now, and I promise we'll figure this out

Once they finished wolfing down their breakfast and cleaned up the mess Felix’s mom left in the kitchen, Felix had the realization that they were left with most of the day to their own devices. ‘Run some errands’ was usually his mom’s code for getting her nails and hair done, getting coffee with her friends, and maybe spending a couple hours roaming through Target if she wasn’t too tired from her shift at the hospital the night before. It would be well after noon before she came back.

It didn’t take long for their friends to notice their absence at school and start texting wondering what was going on. Neither he nor Sylvain seemed particularly inclined to answer those questions, so they just left Ingrid and Dimitri with a vague promise to explain later. They silently agreed that they weren’t in the mood for more studying – not that Sylvain had any of his books or notes to study anyway – or really doing much of anything. They settled for curling up on the couch and clicking through the TV channels until they settled on reruns of some 90s sitcom neither of them cared that much about.

Sylvain, thinking himself cute, stretched out on the couch and laid his head across Felix’s lap, flashing that dopey smile (hollow as it was at the moment) that made Felix just roll his eyes and humor him. Felix found himself running his fingers through the fiery strands before him idly as he watched the show’s cringy 90s family bumble their way through some contrived, mundane drama accompanied by an over-played laugh track. Sylvain offered the occasional breathy chuckle or contented sigh, leaning into Felix’s touch like the overgrown puppy Felix often likened him to.

They were three (or maybe four?) episodes into the sitcom when Felix noticed the chuckles and sighs had stopped entirely. His hand paused, and he glanced down to see Sylvain’s eyelids had drooped shut. His breathing had slowed, chest rising and falling evenly under Felix’s other hand. All the traces of worry and anxiety Sylvain had been trying to mask since the night before – or, perhaps more accurately, about as long as Felix had known him – melted away in his sleep, the lines of his face smoothed out, plush lips parted slightly to let soft snores escape. The morning sunlight highlighted the smattering of warm golden freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, making him look younger, like the little boy Felix had grown up with.

And, of course, there was the raised knot on his cheek that was starting to bruise faintly around the edges, sending a swell of anger through Felix’s chest just as it had when he first saw it the night before.

As irritated as Felix had been when Sylvain decided to kiss him awake before, looking down at him asleep in his lap, he could understand the impulse. But Sylvain looked so peaceful, so unburdened, he didn’t want to take that away from him. Felix let him sleep, his fingers working through his hair once more. He was unsure how long he let Sylvain sleep, another three or four episodes at least, before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught his ear. His stomach dropped, and he worried it was Mr. Gautier. Gently as he could, Felix worked his way out from under Sylvain’s head, trying not to disturb him to no avail. Sylvain muttered sleepily, hazel eyes blinking slowly open.

He pushed himself up on an elbow as Felix peeked out the window. It was most certainly not Mr. Gautier’s car, which was a relief. The car was unfamiliar, beat up and kind of a junker, and Felix watched as Miklan of all people climbed out of the passenger seat, something slung over his shoulder, and made for the door. “Wha’s goin’ on?” Sylvain mumbled through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

“Your brother’s here.” Sylvain’s brow furrowed. “Did you text him?”

“No,” he admitted, ruffling his bedhead into further disarray as he puzzled over it. “I thought about it, but I figured I’d do it later.”

There was the expected knock on the door a moment later, and Felix went to let Miklan in. The man’s jaw was set in a hard line, to rather intimidating effect given the jagged, puckered scar that crossed from his right temple over the bridge of his nose, which even Sylvain didn’t seem to know the origin of. “Hey. Can I come in?” Felix stepped aside to let Miklan pass, getting a better look at the bundle Miklan carried with him: a small black duffle bag and Sylvain’s backpack. He followed Felix into the living room silently.

“How’d you know I was here?” Sylvain wondered when they stepped in from the hall. Felix didn’t miss the way Miklan’s eyes darkened as he looked at his brother, and he doubted Sylvain missed it either.

Miklan dropped his burden on the floor, leaning against the archway, one hand buried in a pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck the way Sylvain always did. “Mom called me,” he admitted. That was certainly a surprise. As far as Felix knew, Sylvain was the only one in their family who kept in touch with Miklan, and even then he did so in secret.

“How-?”

“She said she got my number off your phone before Dad deleted it. Just in case.” He offered a shrug, shoulders too tight to be as casual as he was trying for. “Said you and Dad got into it last night and you walked out.” Sylvain nodded. “What happened?”

“He found out about Felix and I,” Sylvain sighed.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Walked in on us asleep together, kicked Felix out, and we started arguing.”

A small, proud smile tugged at Miklan’s lips. “And you decked him. Mom said you damn near broke his nose, too.” A small puff of laughter escaped Sylvain’s lips, and he looked pretty pleased with himself. “Gods, I bet that felt good.”

“It did,” Sylvain admitted. “Really cathartic.”

Miklan was silent for a moment, studying Sylvain intently. “Are you okay?” Felix’s eyes flicked between the two, a curious outside observer in a conversation he really had no part in. The scene before him was honestly kind of surprising. He’d never taken Miklan for the caring brother – for good reason, based on the strange history between the two – and yet, there he was, worrying after Sylvain’s well-being. Miklan, the guy who pushed four year old Sylvain into the deep end of a swimming pool and nearly drowned him, who shoved Sylvain down the stairs when the boy was in third grade which caused Sylvain to break his leg, who drunkenly threatened his brother with a knife… and so many other stories Felix had heard over the years.

“Define ‘okay,’” Sylvain snorted. Seemingly not wanting to keep talking about it, he changed the subject, gesturing toward the bags on the floor. “What’s all that?”

“Mom packed you some shit. She wasn’t sure how long you were going to be here.” Sylvain stood and grabbed the bags, returning to the couch to rifle through them. In the duffle bag, it looked like there was about a week’s worth of clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant, a comb, and Sylvain’s phone and laptop chargers. His backpack was filled with exactly what was supposed to be there: his books, homework, notes, and laptop. “She said she understands why you left, and that she’s going to try and keep Dad from bugging you as long as she can. I figure that gives you three days, tops, since like, when does he ever listen to Mom?”

Sylvain laughed, a bitter, hollow little puff, and zipped the bags back up. “Thanks. I’ll… call her tomorrow.”

Miklan nodded, and he rubbed the back of his neck again, staring into space a bit. “So… I hate to ask for a favor when you’ve got your own shit to deal with…”

To his credit, Sylvain didn’t huff or sigh or look remotely phased at all, which was more than Felix would have been able to say of himself. “Spit it out, Mik.”

Miklan licked his lips. “See, a buddy of mine’s leaving his job in a few months, and I really want the job. His boss likes me for it, but I don’t _technically_ qualify since I, you know, dropped out of school.”

“Okay.”

Miklan glanced at the floor, looking rather sheepish, awkward and uncomfortable. “But I _really_ want this job. So… I decided I’m going to try to get my GED.”

Sylvain blinked, surprised, and he managed a small smile. “Good for you, man.”

“But, um. That’s kind of where the favor comes in,” Miklan continued. “I’m not good at all the studying shit. I know it’s not really your problem, but I was kind of hoping you might… help me out. Since you’re a fucking nerd, I mean.” And here Felix thought _he_ was bad at using his words.

And yet Sylvain laughed, a small but genuine thing. “Sure, man,” he agreed. “I’ll help you study.”

“Thanks,” Miklan muttered. The brothers were silent for a moment, before a horn honked impatiently courtesy of whoever had driven Miklan. “Asshole. I gotta go. Um. Let me know how shit goes.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Later.” Felix let Miklan show himself out.

“That was… unexpected,” Sylvain said after a moment. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it, his unkempt locks bouncing with the movement, before standing up and hefting the duffle bag over his shoulder. Felix grabbed his backpack before Sylvain could, earning a small, fond smile, and the two returned upstairs.

Sylvain excused himself to take a shower, grabbing his newly provided toiletries and a fresh pair of underwear from the duffle bag. Felix distracted himself with his phone, scrolling through his social media. Ten minutes later, a freshly washed and slightly damp Sylvain flopped down practically on top of him.

“Hey,” he said softly, propping himself up over Felix with his elbows. “Are you okay, Fe?”

Felix’s brow furrowed and he tossed his phone aside. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sylvain’s fingers were already twisting in the long, loose strands of Felix's hair, absently. “I know last night wasn’t any easier for you than it was for me.”

“It’s doesn’t ma-”

“Don’t,” Sylvain cut him off. “Don’t say it doesn’t matter how you feel.” Felix opened his mouth to argue, but Sylvain silenced him with a soft kiss. “I know that’s what you were going to say. And it _does_ matter how you feel. It matters to me.”

Felix glanced away. _What_ did it matter how he felt? He wasn’t the one with a controlling, abusive father. He wasn’t the one who didn’t feel safe to go home. Even when he dreaded telling his father that he was dating Sylvain, he knew that there was nothing his father would do or say that would make him feel like he had to get away. Worst case, he shut himself in his room and spoke to the man less than normal.

“Fe,” Sylvain prompted, turning Felix’s face back toward his with a gentle tug on his chin. “Please.” And Sylvain’s eyes were so disarming, like they were looking through his skin and his bone to all the nooks and crannies that Felix tried so hard to cover.

“It’s… not how I wanted to tell my dad,” he admitted. “He already knew, but still.” He’d known, realistically, he would have had to tell his parents eventually. He’d just wanted to do it on his own terms. “And I guess I’m just… angry. Your dad can go eat a dick.”

Sylvain laughed, thumbing a strand of hair from Felix’s forehead. He kissed Felix again, deeper this time since he wasn’t trying get Felix to stop talking. And, for a moment, Felix felt like things could be normal again, eventually. Sylvain broke the kiss, nose crinkled slightly in mock distaste. “Ugh. Bacon breath.”

Felix smacked him with a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: Hesitate by the Jonas Brothers


	12. Put another X on the calendar, summer's on its deathbed (there is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends)

Sylvain’s luck held out; his father didn’t try and call him, didn’t show up at the Fraldarius house for the rest of the week. True to his word, Sylvain did call his mother the day following Miklan’s visit, listening in quiet exasperation as she peddled all of the familiar apologies that Sylvain had heard often enough he could recite them, trying not to snap back every time the conversation derailed to be about _her_. That was just how things were. She would sniffle and sob her way through excuses for her husbands behavior, fishing for reassurances that Sylvain didn’t blame her.

The swelling on Sylvain’s cheek had gone down, but the faint bruise was going to linger a while. Mrs. F, the doting mother that she was, dutifully helped Sylvain cover the mark with concealer on Monday morning, doing an excellent job of putting on a brave face for his sake. While he hadn’t heard her crying any more after the first night, he didn’t miss the sad looks she would give him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Felix held Sylvain’s hand in the car on the way to school, squeezing reassuringly every now and again in place of words. Sylvain squeezed back, grateful. Ingrid and Dimitri practically ambushed them the second they stepped out of the car, dragging them to a secluded spot in the courtyard and demanding to know what was going on. Sylvain couldn’t blame them; he and Felix had decided to avoid their friends’ pressing questions all weekend. But they were worried, rightfully, and Felix and Sylvain felt they deserved some sort of explanation.

Ingrid hugged them each tightly once Sylvain finished a detail-light account of the story, Dimitri giving them reassuring squeezes on the shoulder. “So, what are you going to do now?” Ingrid wondered.

“Well,” Sylvain sighed, considering this. “Graduation is in three weeks, and then I turn eighteen on the fifth. Mr. F has already offered to let me stay with them until this fall.” He shrugged. “If my dad decides to make a big deal about me coming home, I can survive three weeks.”

The first bell rang, and they were forced to make their way to homeroom, shelving any further conversation on the matter until they could be out of the range of prying ears. Sylvain did his best to focus in class, but really, what was the point? It was all just test prep anyway, as finals were the following week. Seniors would get the week after finals off, and graduation would be on the following Sunday, the second of the Garland Moon, three days before Sylvain’s eighteenth birthday.

The rest of the week passed quietly, a blur of studying with Felix and generally enjoying life in the Fraldarius house. After a few days of settling in, things fell into a relaxed rhythm. Felix no longer visibly fought the instinct to jerk away from Sylvain the second his parents walked in the room, finally comfortable with the idea that they didn’t seem to mind the sight of them holding hands or leaning against one another. At one point, his mother even walked in on a kiss, making no indication that anything was going on, and Felix simply went a light shade of pink as they broke apart when he heard her humming lightly to herself.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Felix and Sylvain were studying in Felix’s room on Wednesday night after dinner, as per the usual, when a soft knock on the door drew their attention. “Yeah?” Felix called.

Rodrigue stepped in, eyes somber, lips turned down in that distinctly Fraldarius way that Felix shared. “Sylvain, your father’s here.” Sylvain’s stomach tightened, and he found himself at a loss for words. “I’ll send him away if you don’t want to see him,” he said evenly, “but I think you should talk to him.” Sylvain nodded slowly. What would he even say? “Felix, would you give us a moment?”

Felix looked about ready to protest, but Sylvain gave him a gentle look, managing to find his voice. “It’s alright.” Reluctantly, Felix left the room.

Rodrigue took a seat next to Sylvain on the bed. “Would you like my advice?” His voice was gentle, kind and warm in a way Sylvain’s father’s never was, and Sylvain idly wondered, not for the first time, if it was too late to be adopted. Swallowing hard, he nodded. Rodrigue met his eyes evenly. “You’re not a child, don’t let Andrew treat you like one, and don’t let him make you feel like one. Mind your tone, but be firm. Don’t get angry, don’t lose your cool.” He put a comforting hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. “Don’t stoop to his level. Be the bigger man.”

_Be the bigger man_. Sylvain drew in a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Rodrigue smiled, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood. “Amber and I will be there with you unless _you_ ask us to leave, alright?”

“Thank you,” he managed, throat thick, feeling grateful to the family in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repay. Sylvain followed Rodrigue to the dining room, where Andrew sat at the table, back to them as the entered, sipping on a cup of coffee. Mrs. F, on one of her rare nights off, sat to his left, shooting him baleful sidelong looks over her own cup of coffee. Felix, like an angry shadow, had pasted himself against the wall near the door, arms crossed as he glared daggers into the back of Andrew’s head.

Rodrigue took a seat across from his wife, leaving Sylvain to sink into the chair opposite his father, the comforting presence of Mr. and Mrs. F on either side of him.

The look Sylvain’s father gave him was cold, though he’d expected no less. “Rodrigue, Amber,” he said evenly, glancing between the two adults, “if you don’t mind, I’d like a moment alone with my son.”

Rodrigue, his face seemingly impassive if not for the hard set of his jaw, shook his head. “I think we will stay,” he said matter-of-factly, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

Anger flashed in his father’s eyes, barely concealed. “This is between me and Sylvain. It doesn’t concern you. Give us a moment alone.”

“This is my home, Andrew,” Rodrigue reminded him sharply. “I will do as I please.”

His father was silent a moment, and Sylvain could practically _see_ the anger seething under the surface. Andrew Gautier was not a man accustomed to being told ‘no.’ Sylvain bit back a smirk. “Fine,” he bit, “then Sylvain, why don’t we have this conversation outside?”

“No,” Sylvain told him, firm, but minding his tone as Mr. F had instructed.

Sylvain was reasonably sure it was the first time he’d ever blatantly refused to follow his father’s orders, and he hand to clamp his hands together in his lap to keep them from shaking under the look his father gave him. _Don’t let him make you feel like a child_. “This is a family matter,” his father ground out. “Don’t drag them into it.”

Sylvain held his ground. “Either say what you want to say here, or leave.”

For a moment, Sylvain thought that his father _was_ going to leave, huff and grumble in his usual manor about Sylvain being ungrateful and disrespectful, and storm out. Instead, he just drummed his fingers on the table for a long moment, took a deep breath, and nodded stiffly. “Alright. Stop this nonsense and come home, Sylvain.”

“What nonsense?” Sylvain challenged.

His father leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and dropped his voice down low. “You’re not gay.” The way he said the word gay, he made it sound like a bad word, the kind not used in polite company. Not for the first time, Sylvain felt revulsion roil in his stomach at the man's hateful, outdated ideals. 

“You’re right,” Sylvain allowed. “I’m not.” Andrew regarded him through slitted eyes, as if trying to figure out if Sylvain was fucking with him or not. The statement was true, though, even if Sylvain didn’t care much to put too fine a point on things. “Gay, by definition, would mean an attraction exclusively to men. I think we can all see the problem there,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. By the doorway, Felix’s lips twitched up, and just that small smile felt like all the encouragement in the world. “But, that doesn’t mean I’m straight.”

His father didn’t seem to like that answer, pinching the bridge of his nose. The man’s eyes fell on Rodrigue. “And I suppose you’re going to try and tell me you condone this?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was a family matter that doesn’t concern me,” he said dryly. Mrs. F hid her smirk behind her coffee cup at her husbands sass, and Sylvain could see Felix’s shoulders shake in silent laughter.

Sylvain took a breath. “Look, Dad, I don’t care if you ‘condone’ the fact that I’m dating Felix,” he said simply, drawing his father’s eyes back to him. Before he knew it, years of pent up feelings were pouring out, thoughts he’d never dared to voice before. “I don’t need your approval. I don’t _want_ it. My relationships are my business. You don’t get a say in them.”

“You are still a minor-”

“For three more weeks,” he reminded him.

“I’ll remind you that while you are a minor, there is nothing stopping me from calling Catherine and ensuring the police bring you home.” He knew better than to assume his father was bluffing. It was a very real threat, one Rodrigue had prepared him for several days before. “And while you live under my roof, you will live by my rules.”

Sylvain bit back the dozen of scathing retorts that burned on his tongue. _Don’t get angry, don’t lose your cool_. “It’s not going to come to that,” Sylvain assured him. “If you want me to come home, I’ll come home without a fight. I’ll follow your rules. For three weeks.”

His father snorted. “And what are you going to do then?”

Rodrigue piped in before Sylvain could answer. “I’ve already invited Sylvain to stay as long as he needs.”

Andrew glared at each of them in turn, silent and seething, a man unused to not getting his way. It wasn’t a fight he was going to win. With a huff, he pushed away from his chair. “Be home by dinner tomorrow,” he managed evenly, straightening his tie and showing himself to the door. None of them moved or spoke until they heard the front door slam.

Mrs. F descended on Sylvain with tight hugs and soft kisses to the top of his head, cooing over him. Rodrigue was patting him on the back, saying soft things that Sylvain wasn’t really listening to. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, moreso than it had the night he punched his father. He swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat at the realization that, in that moment, Sylvain felt like he had an actual family.

He managed to excuse himself, claiming to be tired, and he and Felix retreated to the bedroom they now shared. Felix held him in the dark as Sylvain trembled, silent and comforting and warm, and everything he needed.

He dragged his feet the next day returning home. He didn’t bother packing everything his mother had provided for him, just the essentials; he’d be back, after all. He spent entirely too long with Felix wrapped in his arms, trading fleeting kisses. Downstairs, he was bombarded by a doting Mrs. F, demanding he call her if he needed anything, promising that the spare room (see: Glenn's old bedroom) was cleaned out so Sylvain would have a place to come back to, and he wasn't sure how he felt about taking that space.

His father didn’t say a single word to him at dinner when he finally made it home, barely acknowledged his presence at all. His mother looked like she was already about three drinks deep and going strong. He found he couldn’t blame her for that. After that, Sylvain retreated to his room and spent the rest of the night texting Felix, finding that he already missed the constant presence of his boyfriend.

Life continued. His father demanded Sylvain come straight home from school each day, as if he was grounded, hoping to exert the last of his control over Sylvain while he had the chance. For the most part, they avoided each other, not speaking. Felix wasn’t allowed over, unsurprisingly (not that he would have wanted to go where he was unwelcome anyway). When Sylvain wasn’t busy studying, he was busy packing. His mother brought him a supply of cardboard boxes, and he methodically boxed up the bits of his life that he deemed essential.

The longest contact Sylvain had with his father was standing awkwardly in the man’s office, his laptop perched on the corner of the desk as he printed off study material. Sylvain had to bite back a smile at the knowledge that, hovering just a couple feet over his father’s lap were about a dozen crude pictures of dicks drawn in Sharpie on the underside of the desk, courtesy of middle school-aged Sylvain and Miklan. It was yet another dangerous escapade that had miraculously never been discovered.

Finals week came and passed, and Sylvain was stuck at home the week seniors had off, only allowed to leave for graduation rehearsal the day before. Sylvain _Gautier_ and Felix _Fraldarius_ were luckily seated next to each other, as there happened to be no one with surnames starting with Ge through Fo to come between them. The rehearsal ended early, and Sylvain took the opportunity to sneak away to Felix’s house for a little while before he had to return home.

The second Felix’s bedroom door closed behind them, Sylvain pulled his boyfriend in for a long kiss, starved over the past few weeks of the affection he’d come to crave. “Can you believe we graduate tomorrow?” Sylvain sighed when he broke the kiss apart, pressing his forehead to Felix’s. “Just a couple more days…” Felix just hummed. Sylvain pulled back, fingers threading lightly through loose, inky strands of hair. “You never told me where you’re planning to go to college this fall,” Sylvain realized. They’d really put off talking about it, hadn’t they?

Felix bit his lip. “I only just decided about a month ago,” he admitted. Sylvain perked up, waiting for Felix to talk about it in his own time. Felix pulled away, heading to his desk and rummaging through his desk drawer, and returned a moment later with two letters. “These were the two I was torn between.”

Sylvain took them, turning the thick envelopes over in his hands. One was for Fhirdiad University, where their fathers had gone, where Dimitri and Ingrid were heading in the fall. The other-

“University of Almyra,” Sylvain breathed, heart skipping in his chest as his eyes snapped back up to Felix.

Felix’s face flushed the lovely pink color Sylvain loved, arms crossing in front of his chest as he scowled over Sylvain’s shoulder. “Don’t get a big head, I applied before we were… you know, serious.” His blush deepened.

Sylvain laughed, warm and adoring. “So, um… which one did you chose?”

Felix was silent for a moment, tongue darting over his lips as he plucked the Fhirdiad U envelope from Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain tried not to let himself be disappointed. It was Felix’s life, his decision, and Sylvain was going to support him like a good boyfriend-

Felix crumpled the letter and tossed it in trashcan, and Sylvain felt like he couldn’t breathe for a second, barely daring to believe what he was seeing. “You’re coming to Almyra with me?” Felix met his eyes and nodded, just a little.

Overwhelmed and so, _so_ happy, Sylvain dropped the letter and hefted Felix up into his arms – with an indignant yowl from Felix for a moment before his legs wrapped around Sylvain’s hips – holding him close and kissing him deep. “Put me down, idiot,” Felix huffed when Sylvain lips finally left his.

He didn’t put him down, just held him closer. “Didn’t you fail Almyran last year?” Sylvain laughed, reaching up to tuck a lock of Felix’s hair behind his ear.

Felix scowled. “I share a study hall with Khalid,” he muttered, so soft Sylvain could barely hear. “He’s been tutoring me. I have an A- now. He thinks if I keep studying over the summer, I’ll be okay this fall, since most classes are offered in Fódlan anyway.” That was true enough. U of A was renowned the world over, drawing students from all corners of the globe, and Fódlan was such a universal language, it was just as common in Almyra as Almyran. “Besides, they offer an Almyran Immersion program for international students.” He'd certainly given it a lot of thought.

It hit Sylvain very suddenly, over the swell of affection that threatened to make his chest burst. His stared at Felix like he was seeing him for the first time, meeting those intense amber eyes like he could drown in them, and would that really be a bad thing if he did? Felix’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I love you.” He said it like it was the most simple, most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was. Felix’s eyes grew wide, his mouth opening and closing without a sound as he struggled to figure out how to process that confession. Sylvain kissed him softly. “It’s okay,” he assured him with smile, “you don’t have to say it back. Only if you want-”

Felix scowled again, pressing a finger to Sylvain’s lips to shut him up. His eyes pressed closed, brow knitted together as he thought very hard. Sylvain gave him the time he needed, kissing the tip of his finger gently while he waited. After a moment, he buried his face in the crook of Sylvain’s neck, holding him tight as if Sylvain might disappear if he let go. “I love you, too.”

Everything that led to that point, Sylvain decided as he coaxed more kisses from his bashful boyfriend, it was all worth it. And, for that one moment, Sylvain was content to just let himself be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: The Calendar by Panic! At The Disco
> 
> Thanks for reading for so long! When I started 'I can's seem to breathe with a rusted metal heart' I intended for it to be just a short look into the relationship between Sylvain and Miklan, with some Sylvix tension in the background, but my sappy self couldn't leave the story on such a sad note. I wasn't sure how long this one was going to end up being, once I started. I certainly didn't think it was going to end up being three times as long as the first one. 
> 
> For the time being, I don't have any plans to continue on in The Kids Aren't Alright story, though I may do some prequel one-shots at some point down to road. I AM planning to start a different Modern AU Sylvix here before too long, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Now, for a shameless self-plug: if you're interested, I've got some other stories I've been updating along side 'I can't seem to.' There's Winds of Change, a Claude-centric rewrite of the Verdant Wind route that will eventually diverge from canon. And there's Felix in Wonderland, a kind of character study on Felix and his relationship with Glenn/Glenn's death set very vaguely to the backdrop of Alice in Wonderland. Check them out if any of that stuff interests you. 
> 
> And, again, thanks a lot for taking the time to read this!


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